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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266597">it's just my soul responding (to the heavy heart i'm holding)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fudgeilatte/pseuds/fudgeilatte'>fudgeilatte</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Altering 'The Witchfinder' [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anger, Angst, Aredian is an asshole, Arrests, Arthur is tormented, Arwen is a bit chaotic, Betrayal, Character Development, Character fixes, Conflict, Dark Past, Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Gorlois (Mentions), Guards, Hunith (Mentions), I don't know how to tag this story but I felt like it needed tagging, Magic, Mergana actually communicating, Merlin is in a panic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Okay everyone is worried, Past Character Death, Persecution, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Gaius (Merlin), Protective Gwen (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Protective Morgana (Merlin), So much conflict, Some characters are amusingly sly, Suspense, Uther is tormented, Worried Gwen, Worried Merlin, everyone is suspicious, the great purge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:00:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fudgeilatte/pseuds/fudgeilatte</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If 'The Witchfinder' episode went a little differently. </p><p> </p><p>__________________</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>"He thinks of you like a daughter."</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Yet he'd treat me like a monster."</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gaius &amp; Merlin (Merlin), Gwen &amp; Morgana (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin), Morgana &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana &amp; Uther Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Altering 'The Witchfinder' [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>280</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Fear The One Who Wears The Crown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>It's the sort that suffocates the Citadels, stalks among brick walls, metal gates and small homes; the sort that thickens to leach the warm glow of fire torches; the sort that rises and adheres to window panes, smears condensed droplets and greyish hues of vapour across thin glass.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>This sort of mist, she had never seen.</i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Stone pavements are awash with rainfall.  Small lines of water that have seeped into the cracks of the cobbles glisten white up to the night sky. Pitter-patters and splashes are powerfully resounded by the steady beats of guards' footsteps within the city. The solely comforting sound, however, cannot reach her burning, pulsating ears.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>The heart inside of her falters as she sees it.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>It's indisputabley, and unfortunately, not another vision that swirls like hot wax in her nightmares   -   a plague that spreads beyond control in her mind. It destroys the fog, breaks free from the shadows, richocheting off the cobbles as it moves through the courtyard. The clacking of hooves accompanies the sharp clatter of heavyweight chains as they hang off the bars and strike one another again and again.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Crimson substance flows thick and fast, hammering in her ears. Her chest constricts, and she sits a trembling hand onto the white stone sill of the window. The tyrant makes one swift jump off the carriage, hefty boots landing on the wet stone with an assertive thump. The silver cuffs and shackles attached to his bulky leather belt clang loudly. Echoes of the harsh sound recoil off every surface within close proximity.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Her gaze is hauled to the man clad in black, as he juts his chin, revealing a rough beard and a phlegmatic countenance as he looks to the guard before him.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Is that him?" the curious maid speaks, joining her Mistress by the window. The question lingers in the room, between the two women, but it need not be answered.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>One cruel man sends for another.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"What's that cage for?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Her voice shakes and can scarcely be heard beneath the fear as she mutters the answer: "It hardly bears thinking about."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>The tyrant, as if being lured by her terror from heights above, turns his body and glances directly up to her window  -  into her eyes like the crow flies. With a small whisper and a gasp, she stumbles a step backwards.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>II</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sharp clicks echo in the bright halls as she makes her way through the castle. Her head is hung low, straining her neck a little, as she walks, deep in feared thoughts. Her fingers sit by her stomach, fiddling anxiously with one another. Over the years, it's a tick that seemed to have come more often as her nightmares became darker. Gone are the days where she could stand a still posture even when she was scared inside, the days she spent lying to Arhur just for the amusement of teasing him without a hint of deceit in sight. The magic inside of her is new, and, much to her disturbance, seems to carry a new person with it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If her powers were to come out of control and be seen by anyone, she could see herself thrown in the dungeons and tied to the stake quicker than one could snap their fingers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rounding the final corner, the King's Ward's fingers grip to the other for seconds that turn into minutes, her hands clasped together as her nightmares rerun in her head: ravens that alarm shrieks and sound corrupt croaks with wings that pierce through the mist and into her mind; shadows that chase her through the night; fire that roars up in flames and engulfes the city; shards of the future that find their way into her ephialtes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The one  -  and the only   -  relief that eases the intensity of the night terrors is her long-serving sleeping draft provided by Gaius. She had always sought comfort from the old Physician, had always been able to count on him since she was a child. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But as she keeps walking, she can't help but feel another horrific surge of doubt as she harks back to when he had refused to acknowledge her fears of her own magic a couple of weeks past. The moment her eyes flashed in the shade of bronze swirled with fire, was the moment Gaius couldn't be of verbal comfort any longer. His sleeping drafts have continued to be the only thing to keep her in the light of this gloom and obscurity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her eyebrows both quirk and furrow as she approaches the Physician's chambers. The door is swung open on a worn hinge, and the stone floor is barely distinguishable. She takes a few careful steps forward, her hand reaching out to touch the door. Her eyes don't know where to settle; what is usually a homely chamber consisting of organised bookshelves, a few tables, a fire, steaming pots of chemicals and potions, herbs kept neatly against the wall and a few broomsticks lying around, is, in fact, a chamber of saddening disarray. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And tears prick her eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In respective assemblages are splintered legs of broken chairs around tables that sit suddenly empty and abandoned. Papers are strewn carelessly around the room and sit with a sense of unrest beside many torn books that look to have been thrown with power to the floor. Small defenseless puddles of black ink lie on the floor and on tables, a quill and a shedload of thin glass shards in each pool of sticky substance. Smashed test tubes are scattered on the big table towards the centre of the room, its contents spilt, the potential accomplishment destroyed and use wasted. Morgana's teary eyes wander upon the shelves beside the window to her right. Herbs and medicines are either tipped over or on the floor, jars of seeds and liquids are cracked, the floor bestrewn by the contents.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What hadn't come to her attention, however, until he shuffles a little, is the young man sitting against a fortunate still-standing table, one of his hands holding a torn page, and the other rested on his forehead. The knee of his left leg is curled up to his chest, whilst the other lay still, his boot absently tilted to the cold floor. Coatings of dust overlay patches on his jacket, and Morgana quickly matches it to the powder let loose from one of the glass containers to the right of her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She goes to speak, but finds that her voice catches in her throat, and puts a hand to her mouth to lessen any non-verbal noise that escapes her. She considers the way his shoulders are slumped; the way his eyes are closed in what looks like defeat; the way his fingers barely even grasp the ripped page in his hands as if it matters no longer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She frowns, her fingers coming together nervously once again. "Merlin?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On any other day Morgana would have entered the chambers expecting to see Gaius sitting at one of the few tables, peering at a scientific book, a small magnifying glass in his hand; or bent over steaming test tubes on the wooden labatory bench experimenting with medicinal chemicals. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though today, she had seen the old Physician's nephew be blamed of something that Morgana very much doubts he is guilty of. Morgana hadn't wanted to collect her sleeping draft from Gaius given that the plight they are currently trapped in would be worsened, and especially for him by Merlin being arrested and his execution commanded. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Be that as it may, Morgana had not   -  given that she isn't caught before the hours of darkness fall upon the Kingdom   -  wanted to endure more nightmares. And she had hoped that she could be of some solace to Gaius. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although, she hadn't  -  even with a cut-throat barbarian sent for by a King equally clueless to empathy striding around the castle   -  expected <i>this</i>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin inhales and turns, tiny patters of glass sounding as his hand brushes along the floor. "Morgana," he says quietly. She thinks she sees a kind of relief in his eyes but from such a distance away, she can't be sure. In attempt of confirmation or reassurance, she offers him a smile but can feel that it is weak and sad. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The servant stands, hand against the scruffy wooden table. He walks a few steps over to her, his bloodshot and glassy eyes coming into view. His dark hair is dishevelled, and his stance is tired and dejected. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What happened?" she asks, frowning as her eyes flicker around the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin drops his head and shakes it, before rubbing at his temple. "Gaius, er … gave himself up for me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sorrowful sigh escapes Morgana and she tilts her head at him. "To … Aredian?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With worn fingers clenched to the workbench, Merlin nods once with ire. She sways a little and considers what to do. Never once had she seen her confidante so distraught and close to tears; he has always seemed so content and blithe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, if she is saddened by seeing the chambers of an old man whom she had considered a beloved guardian since she was little in such a mess, and his valued work treated with such ferocity, then she cannot even fathom what his nephew is feeling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> "I'm sorry," she offers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His gaze finds hers at that, and he notices with slight assuage that her eyes are honest, and any fake sympathy that may let loose any rage he feels  -  although would never physically direct  -  is void on her kind and soliticious expression. "I don't know what's going to…" he trails off, the words that hint possibillity of harm to Gaius being rejected by his heart, "… to happen to him  -  what Aredian … is going to do."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana nods gently, long black waves of hair sliding down her shoulder. She runs a finger slowly along the ruined spine of an overturned book, most of the pages peeking out of the leather covers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Merlin, I-" and then she can't continue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <i>I don't think Aredian will hurt him? I hope Aredian will be lenient with him?</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although every part of her wants to, she doesn't think the former nor hopes the latter. If the way the shining cuffs and chains hang proudly on his belt is any indication  -  not to mention the way he looks at Morgana as if he can see the dangerous secret that is flourishing at her fingertips  -  then the Witchfinder will grant a tender-hearted, innocent old man no such compassion. She inhales and brings her head back up to look at the servant. "Gaius is strong."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin taps his fingers on the table, and makes a small coughing sound that resembles a scoff. "I know. In any other situation, he is. But … from what Gaius told me, Aredian is  -  he'll  -" Merlin shakes his head once more and tries to swallow the horrific thoughts down. "Gaius is … he's an old man, Morgana."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She can only nod, unable to find the words to reassure him. She studies him carefully for a few moments, eyes worried and brows furrowed a little, hoping to the gods that, by some small miracle, Gaius will be released of blame before any more harm comes to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin lets out a deep sigh, and leans against the table, before a look of slight confusion appears on his countenance. "What did you come here for?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The question catches Morgana off-guard as her gaze falls to the large area of the floor where most of the small glass containers labelled for their respective patients lay shattered. There's a very high chance that some of the shards there had belonged to the elixir that puts a stopper on her tormented rest. "Oh  -   my, erm …  sleeping draft."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin inhales and leans off the table, taking a few steps towards the pile of broken glass. "Yeah," he lets out a sad laugh. "Sorry about that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana smiles kindly and looks down at her hands, noticing that her fingers have locked around one another yet again. "It's alright. I'm only hoping that Gaius will be released soon enough."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>At all.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Me too," the servant agrees in a whisper, his gaze lifting from the floor and back up to her. "Are you having nightmares again?" he asks, noticing the black shadows under her eyes, and  -  if he's not too bold to notice  -  how ever-so-slightly unkempt her hair looks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"They returned last night," she replies, a shakiness in her voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The night Aredian arrived?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>''It appears so."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin tilts his head to the side and studies her with an ounce of compassion on his face. This tiredness and worry, he has seen before in her, like the night she came to see Gaius only to fearfully confide in him about her new-found magic, or before she warns either him or Gaius about a terrible glimpse of the future she had seen in her nightmares. But there's a fear  -  a new kind of fear  -  in her eyes that he fails to recall noticing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Morgana?" She looks up in reply. "Are you okay?" She inhales sharply as if the question had knocked her sideways, before nodding slowly. Merlin tilts his head a little. "You look scared."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sighs as the realisation drops that he won't let this go. She considers for a brief moment that she could just walk out and if he tried to stop her, he'd be thrown into a jail cell along with Gaius. But she knows that he would seldom  -  if not never   -  use anything other than words to do so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A certain heaviness from her feet  -  though it could just be from fatigue  -  makes her keep standing there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But what if he's too worried about Gaius to help her?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Morgana?" he says, breaking her from her muse as she shakes her head and smiles apologetically. "Your …" he begins, but then his gaze is drawn to the open door and he switches his voice to a low whisper, "… is it your magic?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She only holds his gaze for a second before turning quickly towards the entrance. Merlin takes pity upon her fear and reaches to touch her elbow. "It's okay," he reassures as she faces him again, "there's no-one there."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana smiles a little, but her mind is pleading with her to at least close the door. Living in a castle ruled by a man made vulnerable and shamefully gullible only by his fear of sorcery, and since being taught of her magic by the druids, she'd learnt that she can never be too safe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, as she looks at the certainty in Merlin's eyes, she reasons with herself that if there is someone outside, they'd have taken action the moment Merlin uttered the word that everyone  -  even the poor civillians of the Kingdom who had been poisoned by Uther Pendragon's forboding  -  lives in fear of. "Aredian," she begins, her voice a whisper constricted in her throat. "What if he … suspects me? What if he questions me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He goes to take another step toward her but then stops himself. Instead, he sighs as the terror in her voice pulls at his heart strings. He goes to speak but then finds that he can't, because what <i>could</i> he say? The Witchfinder is ruthless and finds amusement in savagely humiliating and mistreating people  -  which is something Merlin now has no doubts about  -  and just because Aredian has one suspect, it doesn't mean he won't interrogate and victimise others.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Morgana … Uth- the <i>King</i> … would never believe that his Ward has magic."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shakes her head, tears glazing her eyes. "All my life I have seen what his attitude towards magic makes him do. It rules his head over his heart, and the way he orders executions as if it's nothing  -  as if the <i>people</i> he's killing are nothing," she relays. "Even if they don't have magic, he does not listen to reason."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He thinks of you like a daughter."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yet he'd treat me like a monster."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin sighs silently and squats to pick up a broken test tube, tiny pieces of glass falling to the floor. Blinking at its defeat, he stands and places what's left of it on the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's kind eyes follow the servant's actions, the worry over her magic being put to a side. Her eyes wander around the room, and everywhere she looks saddens her heart. Everything seems to be where it should not, and Gaius's life's work is ripped to shreads where it should be inspiring and thriving. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And sorcerers have forever been feared and purged where instead they should be accepted and left to espouse the freedom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looks back to Merlin, watching the way he nudges glass shards into a pile with his boot. "Do you need help with tidying up this mess?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin stops focusing on the glass and offers her a grateful smile. He knows that her heart is kindly, but the King's ward shouldn't be providing a servant with assistance in his duty, whatever it may be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However <i>arduous</i> and <i>painful</i> it may be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thank you, but … I couldn't possibly-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm not some delicate flower, Merlin," she says, smirking a little. "I'll have you know that I've prevailed over Arthur in many a sword fight  -   even if he's too pretentious to admit it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lets himself smile at her comment even as he retrieves a destroyed yet still heavy leather book from the floor. His eyes cast over the writing on the cover before he can stop them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> The smile soon fades as he runs his finger over the title, respective imprints of letters rough to the touch. <i>The Comprehensive Anatomy of Humans</i>. Gaius had made him read the whole confounded thing as punishment for using his magic and <i>accidentally</i> making Uther lose his voice during a particularly boring council meeting. Surpressing a laugh as the King became bewildered at his sudden inabiliy to speak had been difficult. However keeping himself from falling asleep as his eyes struggled to fix on the words of the book later that night, as Gaius chuckled into his test tubes, had been even harder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Withal, I'm not a royal by blood."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a sigh, Merlin carefully puts the book back on the shelf and turns back around to Morgana. "Arthur has me running around for him day and night, so, er…" he trails off, his smile slipping but managing to maintain itself, "…this is probably the easiest thing I'll have to do since Uther made me his servant."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana watches the smile falter, and tries to provide her own, but finds she can't. The exhausted sadness in the tone of his last comment had given it all away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And, erm … Morgana?" he asks, his eyes numbly wandering around the room as he decides what he should pick up next, but then locking to her curious gaze. "You're not a monster." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She inhales slowly at his comment, her eyes becoming tearful again. She goes to speak, but water swims in her eyes as she swallows, waits a few moments, and then manages to croak out: "I know, but … I live in a Kingdom that makes me such."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That doesn't matter," he says, suddenly very sure of himself as he walks a few steps through the mess. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holding back a cry, she manages to maintain eye contact with him. "It does if Uther got any hint of it from Aredian. One <i>supposition</i> and he'd have me in the dungeons."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He'd never execute you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There's no way of knowing for sure," she whispers, blinking back searing tears. "He's a brute … and a <i>wretch</i>," she snaps, her voice thick with outrage and fear. "Underneath, he cares for nothing but the Kingdom, and he will protect it at <i>all</i> costs, Merlin." She lets out a small sob and tilts her head to the side. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin exhales a small distressed sigh. He understands, better than anyone, how she feels; how alone she feels. So scared to be hunted down, head mounted on a spike as if every sorcerer slaughtered is a victory in the fight for 'safety'. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He coughs back pain in his throat as he takes a step closer to her. "Morgana, I-" but then he stops himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <i>I know how you feel. I understand; I have magic, too.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He'd been warned about revealing his powers to her and had ceased himself from doing so when she first suspected her magic. He wants her to feel less alone more than anything. But there is something inside  -  some kind of uncertainty   -  so he can't, and he hates himself for heeding the admonitions instead of helping a friend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin backs up and heads back to the mess. He slumps onto the floor, suddenly defeated again as he remembers the disarray of the chambers. Reaching a hand out slowly, he traces his fingers over torn pages and tiny glass shards. " "I … I want you to know that I won't let Aredian, or Uther  -  or anyone  -  hurt you … because of who you are. Myself nor Arthur will let Aredian go anywhere near you. Granted, Arthur has the authority there, but …"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In that moment, tears of gratitude replace the ones of anger and fear, and she offers him a shaky smile. "Thank you, Merlin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She then lets her gaze wander to the window, an orange evening glow descending into the silhouettes of the cozy little Citadel houses. "Gaius will be okay; he'll be realised as innocent. I can feel it," she tells him, and he considers the honesty in her voice. "And, you know, I can see the future in my dreams, so, I'm counting on it as a source of reassurance."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiles freely at that, and nods slightly. But he doesn't truly believe it  -  he can't let himself believe it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian, a brute with too much power, is under instruction from the King to assassinate this sorcerer from the land by means of harsh punishment and then death. Merlin can't choose to think that the King would let his lifelong friendhip with Gaius give the old Physician mercy; or that the brutal mistreatment Gaius has suffered at the hands of Uther's fear would be forgiven and forgotten. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As much as he so wants to, he can't. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was worried about you," comes a fairly mousey declaration from the entrance's half of the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin turns to face Morgana from where he is crouched on the somewhat scratched stone floor. He'd been picking up pages and then placing a them in a thin pile one ontop of the other. There were hundreds of old, precious, thick books stacked in the early days and then crammmed over years on the bookshelves around the chamber, some with dustings of cobwebs. The pages are an overwhelming abundance compared to the amount of books, and Merlin's overtired mind does not want to fathom the undertaking of sorting each page to each book. And even if he were to do that, there is no proper way they can be put back together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"When Aredian named you as the sorcerer," Morgana elaborates quietly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>However blankly, the corners of Merlin's mouth twitch with the realisation that even though she is the ward of the King, in her gracious hands is a tired broomstick that had managed to elude being broken in half by the numbly obedient guards. Careful, respectful sweeps sound in the silent room and grace the servant's ears with a peculiar comfort. Powder spilt from the jars is collected in a small pile with the spindly twigs of the broom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana tilts her head to the side a little, the movements with the broomstick becoming slower. "What did it feel like?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin quickly notices how the spirit of enquiry from her eyes shifts to disquiet with the weight of the question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>My findings point to one person and one person alone: the boy, Merlin!</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had grown used to being one of the persecuted, lying low when suspicion came and learning that his kind were not welcome in this world. It had been incredibly solicitous. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In all truth it had been of no real astonishment  -  or consternation, for that matter  -  when Aredian had pointed to him with a leather-gloved finger in amongst everyone in the council chambers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although for all the possible risks, he can't tell her any of this, no matter <i>how</i> much he wants to. So what <i>can</i> he say? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana, on the other hand, had never known, up until that point what it <i>wholeheartedly</i> feels like to be opressed  -  for the risk of being so, so close to the apparent monster within her being detected and unveiled. For nothing but a millisecond he had flickered his gaze to her whilst everyone gasped in shock at the revelation, and had seen sheer terror in her eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was scared," he says somewhat quietly, wary eyes on hers. "Nothing like that had ever happened to me before," he whispers, loathing the lie but thinking he can't say anything else. "Uther sent for a man who blamed the wrong person."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"An innocent person."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin nods slowly. <i>That</i> part isn't a whole lie; he may posess the gift of magic, but it doesn't mean to say that he is culpable. After all, he has never once used it to harm the King or Arthur. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Aredian may question you, Morgana. There is nothing I nor anyone else can do to stop that, but … I promise, that's only how far it'll go. You won't be seeing the bars of a jail cell if Arthur, Gwen, or I have anything to do with it. I'll find a way to stop Aredian," Merlin says, but his eyes are far from on her. Instead, they peer to the window. "I'll <i>find</i> a way to stop him before he can victimise anyone else. I'll find a way to get Gaius freed."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana frowns at him a little but smiles nonetheless at his courage and his vows for their security. She thinks that for a servant, he has a surprisingly perfect understanding of her situation, and a lot of gallantry. She would, in this moment, offer to help him in saving the old Physician. But it could mean gettting close to a man like Aredian which sends shivers up her spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Do you think you can?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A flicker of certainty makes an appearance on his face, as if wavering between conviction and doubt. But the uncharacteristically wild look  -  that makes Morgana's mind feel of little ease  -   in his eyes is indicative to her that he has some form of a plan up the sleeve of his dusty brown jacket. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There's always another way," he replies.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And Fear The One Who Carries The Chains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hiya folks. i apologise that it's been so long since the first chapter was posted; ive been prioritizing my other multichapter fic and getting that finished. hopefully it wont take me so long to write the next eight or so chapters of this and update! </p>
<p>also i just want to apologise to Madmaddison135 who posted such a nice comment, and i thank you for that. i think i accidentally deleted the comment as i was replying. </p>
<p>hope you all enjoy chapter two! also comments motivate me a lot and may help me update faster :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>III</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I <i>am</i> sorry, Merlin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The servant's eyes bore into the smooth, almost unmarked leather of the boot he is gripping. The brush in his hand sweeps lightly across the material, almost making it void of its purpose. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin himself barely acknowledges Arthur's words. It is rare for the Prince to apologise to one of a much lesser stature than him -  or, speak in a manner that is anything other than arrogant. Merlin knows that nobody made Arthur apologise; yet, somehow, he cannot seem to take it for what it is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You never should have been arrested."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin almost lets out a scoff. He brushes the boot one more time, a little rougher, before looking up. "It's what happens, is it not? Aredian  -  or anyone, for that matter  -  points the finger of accusation, and the King-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Be careful where you're going with this, Merlin," Arthur warns from behind his desk, pointing a feathered quill in the servant's direction. "That is my Father you're talking about."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin's eyes linger on Arthur's forboding face for a moment, before his jaw tenses and he returns his faltering attention back to his chore. "Yes, my Lord."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur peers at the young man, pausing the movement in his writing. He has been distracted since Gaius was arrested yesterday. Various chores, orders, and tasks have been forgetten more than usual, and now they are all stacked up in an imaginary que but Arthur doubts they will be done. He is a little grateful in the fact that if Merlin were any other royal's servant, he would likely be punished for such a lack of dedication in service. Arthur <i>knows</i> what Gaius means to Merlin   -  what Gaius means to everyone in Camelot. The young Prince does not like their current predicament, and even more so since Gaius has been thrown right into the centre. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He almost regrets giving Merlin all these chores to do when he is clearly worried about his guardian. Yet, Arthur had thought that work is the best solution to a preoccupied mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And I'm sorry about Gaius."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Gaius is innocent," Merlin snaps. He hesitates before looking back up to Arthur, who is now wearing a rather culpable expression. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He practices magic," Arthur says rather quietly, almost biting back his words nevertheless feeling the need to defend his Father.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"A long time ago, yes. But he hasn't tried to harm this Kingdom  -  <i>ever</i>." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur stands from his desk, defeat written all over his face. Yet, he fights back at it with anger. His fists clench against the desk, and his jaw tenses. "I will not have you questioning the King's judgement! He is in charge, Merlin. This is out of my control."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin does not choose to counter that. In fact, the servant's mouth remains closed for the duration of the chore. Arguing with Arthur about such things like magic is the epitome, Merlin had found out, of arguing with a stone wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the servant's mind is too distant to fathom it, anyhow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>IV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the long while spent with Arthur, Merlin's next destination is the vast cave below the castle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Quick footsteps of his worn boots sound rather softly on the staircase. It's rather steep, and the steps are a little mishapen; in the early days, he would stumble on them in his clumsiness and lack of familiarity with the staircase itself. But sometimes Merlin regrets that he has been down here so many times since, over the couple of years, that he could even run down them with his eyes closed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The fire torch glows a small source of illumination around him, his shadow following him with every move. Merlin jumps down the last step, his mind straying this way and that. His heart both sinks and thumps in his chest  -  something it has been doing for almost two days, now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin's eyes settle instinctively in front of him. On a large boulder is the only dragon left. His wings spread, and echoes of the shackles on his feet richoet echoes off the cave walls. A few rocks tumble down into the abyss as scaly feet stomp into a position that the old dragon's body can bear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The young warlock runs a hand through his hair and looks right up at the creature, panicked breaths escaping him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What is wrong, young warlock? You look so pale," comes the dragon's deep, wise voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I did a stupid thing  -  a <i>stupid</i>, stupid thing. And now Gaius is going to die for it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What has happened?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin inhales deeply and attempts to straighten his thoughts. "A Witchfinder has come. He's arrested Gaius for sorcerery, but <i>I</i> am the sorcerer."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, I suppose you are," the dragon speaks with a hint of condescension.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shakes his head; he will not have Kilgarrah's antics this time. "Well, I'm going to confess. It's the only way to save him."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Then your stupidity continues," he chastises, his head bowing. Large scaly eyelids blink over his firey eyes, a hard stare meeting the warlock's face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I won't sacrifice a friend to save myself!" Merlin almost shouts, frustration thick in his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Bravely spoken. But if you confess, the Witchfinder will just burn you both."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But it's <i>my fault</i>! Don't you understand? There must be something I can do," Merlin breathes, tears burning his eyes. His voice becomes softer, with remnants of worry and desperation. "<i>Please</i>, help me. I can't just stand by and watch Gaius die."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Young warlock, understand <i>this</i>  -  if you were to die, you would endanger the lives of all those who rely upon you. I cannot help you, nor can anyone," Kilgarrah's voice rumbles like an almighty storm. "The Witchfinder will manipulate you whatever you choose to do, and you will be burnt along with Gaius. This is a distressing situation, I know. But there is nothing you can do. I <i>am</i> sorry."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Merlin heads back up the staircase, his mind is whirling and he feels tears swim in his eyes. There really is nothing he can do. Not for himself, for Morgana, or any other citizen of Camelot. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not even for Gaius. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>V</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're a <i>traitor</i>, you're an <i>imposter</i>! Sorcery is your only master!" the words are shouted in Gaius's ears and they pierce through his weary head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I serve only my King," the old man replies, his voice deep and sure. He keeps his eyes forwards on the darkened stone wall, refusing to face the tyrant looming over him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian scoffs loudly, moving around the chair to behind his desk. His hands are on his hips as he paces, the chains on his belt clanging with every step. "In what way have you served him? You've lied to him, you've broken his laws, you've betrayed his trust!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I've saved his life, I've treated his ward, I've protected his only son!" Gaius's stern eyes stare at Aredian, fearless. He is determined to prove that he is nothing like the teller of such dangerous lies that he is being accused of perpetrating.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A deadly silence hangs heavy around them. The tall fire torch on the ground serves as the only useful source of light. It illuminates the scrolls and skulls on the cruel man's desk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You've treated his ward?" Aredian's curious voice travels through the peculiar dust in the room. His unwavering focus bores down on the old physician in the chair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaius moves his head up to look at Aredian, one eyebrow quirking at the sudden interest in Morgana. He has often chastised Merlin for saying the wrong things at drastically wrong times, but never once had he been guilty of it. Until now, of course.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I have striven to help all those in need. It is a physician's duty to do so," the physician says, before looking down at his cracked and sore hands. And the purple bruises that painfully rub against the cuffs on his wrist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The <i>Lady Morgana</i>?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Among others."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian's jaw relents in tension. A small smirks appears on his face, and he continues to look at Gaius, who still refuses to face him. "For what malady does she receive this treatment?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She …" Gaius stutters, the words declining to pass his lips. His suddenly unsure gaze flickers upwards, to see Aredian's eyes widen. The wild and almost-threatening look in them forces Gaius to betray the words. "She suffers from nightmares."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian takes a few steps to the left, all the while his eyes never once leaving the physician. "I see."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaius feels as if a sword has been plunged into him. Flashes of memories from when Morgana was just a child flicker through his head, and how she would cry whilst telling him to about her dreams. "But as I said, I feel it is my duty to attend to the needs of-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, yes. You seem very keen to change the subject, Gaius," comes the interruption, the tyrant's deep, rough voice almost as shattering as the chains. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Forcing himself to face the fact that he may have just endangered Morgana's life, the old and tired man looks down. Devastation and self-reproach washes over him. Fear racks through his mind, but is made by worse by Aredian's next few words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sentence lingers, palpable within the darkness. For some reason, Gaius can feel it being pulled towards the fire torches and various small candles in the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Perhaps I should question her myself."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Speak The Truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>VI</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana had kindly declined dining with the King and Arthur tonight. She has lost any appetite she had prior to the Witchfinder's advent, and she has also found that she cannot look Uther in the eye for any amount of time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Following her father's death when she was ten, Morgana saw nothing but kindness in the old Pendragon's eyes. But came the years she grew, her knowledge of Uther's deep-rooted hate also sprouted. For she no longer saw a man who had lost his wife, and a man who took her in and treated her like his own. Instead, she saw a peculiar brutality that she never knew lay beneath the man's crown. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Throughout the years, Morgana had often wondered how he could be so kind and gentle with her, yet act so barbaric and bloodthirsty to sorcerers. The same hand that used to be placed on her shoulder to comfort her, is the very same hand that signals the beheading of mistaken innocents. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, she has concluded that the reason is simple:  Morgana were just a tender-hearted young orphan seeking a guardian and somewhere to grow, whereas these sorcerers Uther would purge his Kingdom of were nothing but rotten in the heart and selfish in the mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana bites her lip as she reminds herself for the hundredth time since Aredian's arrival. She supposes that now, she and sorcerers are one and the same. Not that she would ever harm the Kingdom, because why indeed would she? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin has often reassured her that there is no disease lurking within her, ready to corrupt her soul. He has always seemed oddly certain - perhaps too certain for a servant but she had appreciates it all the same. Reassurance is not long found after she talks with Merlin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But the fact still remains that there is magic within her. That, she is sure she has in common with all other witches and wizards. It still scares her to the point of horrifying nightmares. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"My Lady?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana grips her fingertips on the windowsill, whirling around from the window to face her maid. A small furrow finds its way onto both women's faces. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sorry," she sighs. "I was miles away."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen places the small pile of perfectly folded sheets of linen to the end of Morgana's bed, before stepping forwards. She was going to ask her mistress whether she would like some extra blankets for the cold night ahead, though she doubts that Morgana is in the mindset to answer that. "Are you alright?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana flickers a reassuring smile at her maid in reply, but Gwen grimaces. The smile only twitched one corner of Morgana's lips, whilst the other corner sat in the same worried line it had been in for days. "Have you seen the Witchfinder?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen raises an eyebrow. "No, My Lady," she lies. Gwen had, in fact, almost just bumped into him in the corridor earlier. She could have sworn that he was hiding in alcove, waiting to step out and startle the maid so she would drop the blankets she was carrying in front of the guards. "I haven't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana nods inattentively and returns her gaze to the window. Ever since she was a child she has loved looking out to the homely orange light of citadel streets. But now, in place of kind and hardworking people she would frequently engage in friendly conversations with, Morgana sees too many potential puppets and victims for Aredian. It causes her stomach to churn and a seething anger to rise within her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I would offer you your sleeping draft, but … I'm assuming it was broken in the search of Gaius' chambers yesterday," Gwen says, watching as Morgana gives her another slow nod of confirmation. "Would you like me to stay?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana quickly shakes her head. Although Gwen had often stayed in the smaller room along the corridor in case Morgana awoke in a terrible nightmare, she does not wish to burden her maid any more. Plus, she doesn't wish to risk the chance of Gwen becoming muddled up in this predicament should Aredian decide to show his face tonight. The thought alone has her heart hammering. "No, thank you. You should go and get some rest."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"If you're sure you're alright," Gwen reluctantly agrees and smiles at her mistress, though it is slight and still ever-worried. "Goodnight, Morgana."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana whispers a hoarse 'goodnight' in return as she watches her maid walk graciously out the chambers. Her focus travels slowly to the window again. The mist lingers still, wrapping itself around the descending darkness of the evening. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two knocks sound at the chamber doors. Morgana breaks herself from her worried musing with a shaky sigh, and she walks to the entrance of her chambers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's heart thumps and fear tangles itself in her throat. On the other side of the double doors is a man dressed in black leather, various shackles and cuffs hanging from his belt, and a menacing smirk on his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good evening, My Lady."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's wary eyes dare to look up at the man. She swallows and does her best to smile. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian laughs, a throaty and bitter rumble echoing in the corridor behind him. "May you accompany me down to my workroom in the dungeons? I wish to ask you a few questions. I won't delay you long."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>VII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's heart pounds in her chest, and her hands are clasped together, so tight that they are pale and are beginning to ache. She closes her eyes breifly as she tries to ignore the sound of two guards' boots stomp methodically behind her. She wonders if they are there in case she decides to run. And then she wonders if this was authorised by Uther. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they enter the dungeons, there is an eery quiet. So quiet perhaps, that the occasional drip of damp from the ceiling echoes around the walls, piercing through the silence. Morgana tries to peer through the many metal bars to see Gaius. She worries about him to the point where it makes her feel nauseous. There is no doubt in her mind that seeing the beloved Physician will intensify the concern, but she just wants to see him. To know that he is still alive, maybe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Somehow it feels as if an some kind of heavyweight chain has crushed her insides and burst her heart. Tears swim in her eyes despite the fact that Aredian may turn around and see them. Slumped in a corner of a dark and dusty jail cell is the old man. His shoulder-length whispy hair is scraggly, and his white shirt is smeared with dust and damp. He is lying with his back to the bars, so Morgana cannot see his face. Though, she doesn't doubt that it would look severely exhausted, and the bags under his eyes made even more prominent. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian's footsteps are quick, as are the guards'  behind her. From what she manages to gather, aside from Gaius's rather grungy appearance, is that he seems to be completely still. Far too still for Morgana's liking. Her heart drops heavily as she wonders if he … no, he couldn't be. <i>Could he?</i> Oh, dear the Gods, she hopes not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After they walk through many dark hallways and down cold stairways, Aredian turns quick on his heel. Morgana flinches at the movement, to which Aredian smirks a little at. But he straightens his back and plasters a sickeningly faux-concerned appearance to his face. He snaps his fingers at the guards, who both nod once in respect before disappearing into the murk and shadow of the corridor. "There's no need to look so worried, My Lady." </p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>There is every need, you twisted brute</i>. Morgana declines voicing those thoughts as her focus flickers down to his strong-looking gloved fist. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She swallows down her worry for Gaius as best she can, and glances around the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The stone wall is damp, and she estimates that they're even deeper than the main dungeons. The fire torches placed in each of the room's corners blaze a fierce source of light, but it's not much at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian's shadow stalks along the wall as he rounds his desk. He sits and gestures for Morgana to sit in front of him. She does so without one word. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His cobweb-infested chair creaks as he leans back and stretches his arms out on the table. He catches the way Morgana's gaze darts around the room, refusing to look at him. A smirk twitches the corners of his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana catches this in her peripheral vision, and she bites her lip. She chastises herself for leaving her fear to be so exposed, and attempts to take a deep breath. She forces herself to meet Aredian's hard stare. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, My Lady," he begins, his rough voice sending a shiver down Morgana's spine. "I understand that you suffer from nightmares. Is this true?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again. She repeats this action multiple times, not knowing what to say. Was he <i>really</i> asking her, or was he telling her? She considers that he has all the intel he needs, so wouldn't need to ask her anything. She figures that he only enquires to threaten. "Yes," comes the very slight whisper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I see. And have you tried anything to resolve these nightmares?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana inhales deeply. "Gaius, the court Physician, remedies me sleeping drafts whenever I need them."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian flicks some papers in his hand, the sound sharp in the silence of the room. Morgana flinches again. "And do these <i>remedies</i> ease your nightmares?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An anger suddenly rises in her. Through the fear, she manages to adapt some sense of logical reasoning, since she figures that it's the only thing that may help her now. If he is trying to incriminate Gaius any further, Morgana will not give the tyrant what he wants. In any matter, she speaks the truth. "Yes. They do."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian stands from his desk, balling his knuckles against the desk. They make a crunching sound that makes Morgana's blood curdle. Her feet are restless; she desires to run out of the room  -  perhaps even the Kingdom   -  and escape. But she knows that she would be thrown into jail if she did that, which most decidedly would not help her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The final question for the evening: what are your nightmares about, My Lady?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her stomach churns, and blood pounds in her ears. Her nightmares are the key to her magic  -  the very thing that caused Merlin to suspect it in the first place. If she told Aredian that she sees the future in her dreams … well, she thinks that the dungeons would be a place she would become painfully familiar with. She attempts to steady her breathing, and forces herself to look at the man. "I …" <i>Damn it, don't stutter. Make something up. Quickly. He can't know that you're a Seer.</i> "I see ... I see birds. Ravens." Well, it's not an exact lie.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ravens?" Aredian plays with the word on his tongue, an eyebrow quirking, and his tone mocking. "And is that all? For ten years, there or thereabouts, you're <i>horrific</i> nights terrors have been about ravens?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana cannot help the slight glare that she feels tense her eye muscles. But her heart is still thumping, and Aredian is too close to the truth about her magical abilities. She nods and bites her tongue. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Very well. I apologise for detaining your evening." Aredian attempts to smile. "That will be all, My Lady." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana tries to stand from the chair as calmly as she can, though her legs are pleading with her to start running and never stop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After she speed-walks up the staircases and along twisting dark passageways, she finds herself in the warm lighting of the castle. Although, she feels it suffocating her. The way she had felt Aredian's eyes on her as she exited the room had made her feel so very transparent and vulnerable, and she almost feels as if he is still watching her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana almost turns in the winding corridor in the direction of Gaius's chambers, to confide her fear in Merlin, but she decides against it. By any miracle he may have managed to finally get some sleep, and if that's the case then she doesn't wish to disturb him. Instead, she heads back to the fading comfort of her chambers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Into the cold and long night ahead, sleep eludes Morgana and every footstep from the guards outside has her flinching.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. But I Lie To Protect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi folks - hope you're all safe and well!</p><p>i had to put writing this chapter on hold because i was tweaking around with the ending. but now it's all in place, so it shouldn't take me too long to update. </p><p>also, a disclaimer: any of the dialogue used in previous or future chapters that's from the show, rightly belongs to the BBC, the show, or whoever owns it. in case i havent already said this, i do not own the show or the characters. </p><p>finally, this chapter has not been beta'd as thoroughly as i usually beta all my chapters, since i've been super busy. so, please bear with any grammar mistakes or minor plotholes (hoping there arent any of the latter!)</p><p> </p><p>oh and i'd appreciate some feedback and comments to hear how you're all liking the story so far and what you think of it, maybe things i could improve on etc, if you can.</p><p>i'll shut up now and let you read  :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>VII</p><p> </p><p>Merlin is no stranger to a few sleepless nights here and there, for Kilgarrah's importuning for the servant to wake up and go and see him in the dead of night often occurs. Most of the time it's when there's a threat to Camelot and Merlin is tiptoeing the line of decision - after all, it's difficult when people's lives lie in his hands. One wrong move, and everything can fall to pieces. </p><p> </p><p>But sometimes it's because of that pressure of his destiny, and the burden that it very frequently is, that has Merlin tossing and turning in his creaky bed. Last night had been no exception, because last night he had been plagued by both. </p><p> </p><p>It's difficult for Merlin to ignore the great dragon's rampant shouting and demanding through the magical link. When he tries to, he is forced to toss and turn and wince in his bed, the anger - or whatever emotion the dragon decides to feel - so strong that it makes his head thump.</p><p> </p><p>Last night  -  well … last night was definitely different. Merlin knows that much. The worry that had been crushing him for the previous two days seeps and bleeds into his sleep, into the night -  into the dark, dark sky above.</p><p> </p><p>For one, Merlin has been mentally smacking himself in the head since he realised that there is nothing he can do after promising Morgana that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. He'd always kept his promises, whether it be assuring Gaius that he will soon gather all the herbs the markets aren't able to provide, or guaranteeing his royal <i>Prat</i>ness that he'll have his armour polished in time for training.</p><p> </p><p> But this - what he had promised Morgana - stems further than that. He'd sworn an oath of protection to her that he can't even give himself. And it's for that reason he is currently walking to her chambers; he figures that it's unquestionably best to tell her that before she finds out herself  -  before she is dragged to the dungeons. Oh, gods, he hopes that Aredian hasn't turned his bloodthirsty attention to her already.</p><p> </p><p>Secondly, it's the way his chambers are so silent, now. Merlin had become so used to hearing the soft clanging of glass tubes, the bubbling of medicinal liquids in pots, the hefty thump of books, that the sounds themselves have become his home.</p><p> </p><p>He has so many fond memories of his time with Gaius over the past year or two, but now, when Merlin thinks of them, they are suddenly twisted with sadness and grief and anger and a sombre worry. It's as if the memories are nothing but things Aredian can pull the <i>blasted</i> strings on. </p><p> </p><p>The warlock's drained mind reels in the whirlwind of all of this. He is barely with it as he falters along a white-stoned corridor, his limbs heavy beneath him. </p><p> </p><p>That is, until a man clears his throat particularly loudly, and snaps his fingers. </p><p> </p><p>Merlin turns to his left. He is the only other person currently standing in this corridor  -  heck, it's so silent that there may as well be nobody in the whole West Wing of the castle, either.</p><p> </p><p>The servant bites back a sigh, with no doubt that it could be seen as discourteous towards someone with such a … <i>valued</i> profile. Merlin really does struggle to fathom how being a duplicitous, manipulative murderer makes him valued. It may be because of Uther's fear, but Merlin sees it as unjustified by any means. </p><p> </p><p>"Ah  -  <i>Merlin</i>," Aredian says, a wicked grin spreading over his well-groomed face. But his eyes are nothing but stern, somehow asserting a palpable air of authority.  "You will accompany me down to the dungeons."</p><p> </p><p>Merlin's heart stops for a second. <i>Dungeons</i>?. But then his tired mind makes sense of it. Perhaps Aredian may have aimed to scare him by being so direct, but moreso, Merlin notes that the guards are stood stiffly to their posts. There is nobody coming to arrest him. </p><p> </p><p><i>You mean your</i> workroom, <i>you halfwit ogre.</i></p><p> </p><p>______________________</p><p> </p><p>VIII</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me: what do you think about the Lady Morgana?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>Merlin pauses at such a question. He sees a slightly devious catch to Aredian’s eye that others may mistake for genuine curiosity. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>The man leans forward, clasping slightly ages hands together. “And her nightmares?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“They’re just nightmares,” the warlock replies as cooly as possible. Aredian wouldn’t have asked if he knew such a thing.<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>A deep humm sounds in the brute’s throat. “I had someone bring me a book on magical abilities and beings.”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>Merlin clears his throat and does his best to act nonchalant. “You did?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Aredian exclaims, leaning back in his chair and carefully eyeing the servant opposite him. “I found it very … <i>interesting</i>.”</p><p> </p><p> <br/>
<i>Got you some hard evidence, did it?</i>  Merlin thinks. <i>Of course you found it interesting.</i><br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“Tell me, Merlin. Do you know much about Seers?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>The warlock notably flinches at that. A multitude of thoughts whirl around his head like unruly waves crashing against the very heart of a storm. Just <i>how</i> did Aredian end up with <i>that</i> idea so quickly? There are hundreds, if not millions, of magical abilities involving nightmares. A lot of them are, in fact, very much misconstrued for others because they are so similar. The fact that a man like the Witchfinder had reached the correct conclusion so quickly was ... well, to Merlin, it was frightening. But … no, <i>wait</i>. His leg begins subconsciously tapping up and down. <i>If Aredian has guessed this, he either got the information from Gaius, or he has</i> already <i>questioned Morgana.</i><br/>
 <br/>
 </p><p>Merlin finally brings his head up to the man, who is now wearing a conceited smirk. Heck, Merlin will not give up his friends to fear. “I don’t know much. I don’t really know anything about them, to be honest.”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“No?” Aredian asks. He almost seems surprised. “I think I shall tell you about them.”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>Merlin tries not to squirm under the man’s intense stare.<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“A Seer, similar to a Prophet or, indeed … a <i>Prophetess</i> …” Aredian lingers on the word, waiting for Merlin to react, “...is a magical individual. They possess the ability to foretell the future. Some do this through their dreams … or even their <i>nightmares</i> … whilst others see such visions through scrying or crystal-gazing. Every single being is born like this."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin bites his lip. <i>Why is he telling me this? It doesn’t technically have anything to do with me - although, I, too, have the ability of prophets through crystal-gazing. But, no. If he’s attempting to make me expose Morgana’s ability, then he can expect to fail</i>. But then Merlin pauses at his own thoughts. <i>Although</i>  -  oh, Gods -  <i>I expect he’s already got the truth for himself.</i> For Morgana's sake, Merlin holds onto every shred of hope that that's not true.</p><p> </p><p><i>Aredian wants</i> <i>my</i> <i>reaction. But what will that prove?</i><br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“I see."<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“Do you?” Aredian lets out a throaty chuckle. “Good.” But then, in place of the mockingly amused countenance, his eyes become sterner and darker, somehow, and his jaw tenses. “Do you think I should tell the King that his ward possesses such a monstrosity?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>Merlin <i>just</i> about manages to stop himself from lashing out and blasting Aredian with lethal, dangerous magic. The warlock's stare suddenly matches that of the Witchfinder’s. <i>How dare he!</i> Merlin thinks.</p><p> </p><p>Additionally, Merlin doesn’t quite know what to say, having been trapped into a tight corner by the man’s many intolerable mind games. If he says no, that could lead Aredian to question Merlin’s attitudes towards magic and its ban. If he says yes, on the other hand, that could solidify Aredian’s suspicions about Morgana’s culpability. Merlin doesn’t want to do that by any means, but it would also mean he would avoid any questions about his attitude to magic. “Perhaps,” he forces himself to say.<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>A smirk etches across the man’s face. “Hmm. I shall bear that in mind,” he mumbles and swats his hand in the air. “And do you think I should have her burned to the stake?” he questions, every word a piercing and rough echo against the dungeon walls. “Do you think <i>any</i> magical being should be given such a painful death?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t believe it should be painful,” Merlin half-lies.<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“<i>Oh?</i>” Aredian scoffs. “And why is that? They have committed a crime, have they not?”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>It takes all the self-discipline the servant has not to take Aredian apart with one mighty blow. “Yes.”<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>“As I thought!” Aredian claps his hands as if he had won something. Well, in all honesty, he <i>had</i> won a small victory in each of Merlin’s tiny facial expressions, every time he paused to think, every time he was caught off guard.<br/>
 </p><p> </p><p>Merlin is dragged out of the dungeons by two sentries to be taken up to the main castle  -  not because the servant was misbehaving, but just because Aredian can authorize it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>I must inform Uther. What I've witnessed today is almost enough to have the serving peasant persecuted and arrested …</i>
</p><p> </p><p>The Witchfinder leans back in his chair, grinning at the thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. And You Haul Me Down Below</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>quicker update this time, merlinians! i actually managed to write this chapter in two days, which is a new record for me ;)</p><p>the next chapter will probably take a bit longer to write, because it's got ... UTHER in it! yes, we finally meet him. there are loads of things to consider when writing his narrative because to me, he's a very complex character to write because of his past and everything. </p><p>also, yes, ive changed my username. dont worry folks - still me! </p><p>also, another disclaimer i forgot to add earlier: the fic title is taken from the lyrics of the song 'just my soul responding' by amber run. </p><p> </p><p>hope you enjoy chapter five!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>IX</p><p>This morning, the Lady Morgana had woken in a terrible cold sweat; her hair stuck to her face, a shrill scream echoing around the chamber walls, her heart thudding painfully. In her nightmare, she had seen a horrific fire, the flames licking the air and swallowing it whole. Terrified screams and cries of many people had rung in her ears. </p><p> </p><p>She had bolted upright, horrified at the sight. Sometimes visions Morgana sees in her nightmares don't ever come to pass, but sometimes they do, and she gets a feeling in her gut that a vision needs listening to. And, from the moment she was met with an affrighting awakening, Morgana felt that the vision of fire in this nightmare was one she cannot ignore. </p><p> </p><p>Which is why, after being unable to stomach her breakfast, she had gone to Gaius's chambers to see Merlin. The place had still been in absolute carnage; the late dawn sun had shone through the frost and into the room, highlighting the books and broken jars that still lay abandoned on the floor. </p><p> </p><p>She couldn't find Merlin. She had then asked Arthur, who hadn't seen him since early in the morning, and also Gwen, who hadn't seen him since last night.</p><p> </p><p>So, as midday came round, she had made her way back to her chambers, trying to push the concern for Merlin aside that had arisen upon realisation of his unusual disappearance. </p><p> </p><p>She had brushed her hair to distract herself from the worry and from her own fear, until the flowing black curls had been smoothed out completely and her wrist ached from the constant movement. She had then settled to write some council papers, but could not find the right words to make use of the ink quill.</p><p> </p><p>And then, she had stared out of the window. For hours, Morgana's worried gaze has been settled on the descending skyline as it transformes into a magnificent orange glow. She watches citizens in the lower town calmly go about their business, tending to donkeys or stray chickens, smiling to neighbours, watching proudly as their children play in the pathways between houses.</p><p> </p><p>She has always felt a kindness towards the citizens, has never looked down on them because of their lesser stature. In fact, she could frequently be seen talking to them, bringing flowers to the mothers who often toil the fields in the summer, sneaking food for the children out of the castle's kitchens. They are, but one, of the things Morgana loves about living in Camelot. Since finding out about her magic, even though she had Merlin, she would often go down to the towns to spend time with the people as means of escape.</p><p> </p><p>But since the arrival of the Witchfinder, Morgana has been wary of stepping outside her chambers as much as she used to for fear of Aredian twisting a trip to see the people into some kind of sinister event. She would put her foot down if she wasn't being stalked by him in the shadows. </p><p> </p><p>As Morgana continues to softly gaze at the citizens, she feels a strange heavy feeling in her heart, one she could swear she has never felt before. For a second, if not a moment, she feels a deep longing. A longing to live without the fear of being exposed and hunted. A longing to live in such tranquil simplicity.</p><p> </p><p>A longing to be <i>free</i>.</p><p> </p><p>Morgana flinches when two heavy knocks sound at her doors. She doesn't need to guess who's behind them. </p><p> </p><p>She breathes deeply and tears herself away from the window, the sight of the people fading into her peripheral vision, and then disappearing altogether.  </p><p> </p><p>                                 _________________</p><p>X</p><p> </p><p>Morgana's gaze wavers as it watches the man. He had asked for her to step aside, which she had worried was rather impertinent of him. Once she did, without one word, his face remained sinisterly expressionless as he crept into the room. </p><p> </p><p>"Good evening, my Lady,'' he mumbles as he runs a finger along the table in the centre of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Morgana swallows, her throat tight, as she watches. </p><p> </p><p>"Have you ever met Merlin?" Aredian asks, stalking over to the fireplace, his chin jutted as if he owns the place. <i>If the serving boy got so fidgety upon mention of this jittery Ward of the King, perhaps I shall play the same game here.</i></p><p> </p><p>Morgana's breath hitches in her throat. Her eyes dance nervously around the room, flickering from candlelight to candlelight.</p><p> </p><p>"I have," she tells him, attempting to steady her voice. "He is Arthur's manservant."</p><p> </p><p>A wicked grin creeps onto Aredian's face as he observes her slight change in behaviour. Her back is straightened and she has a faux-stern look in her eyes, but Aredian sees through that.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. Have you ever spoken with him?"</p><p> </p><p>Morgana inhales deeply and attempts to relent the tension in her shoulders. "No. I have not."</p><p> </p><p>Aredian laughs throatily, almost mockingly, as he strides fowards. He watches Morgana freeze. He grins and stops where he is, the heels of his black boots screeching on the stone floor. "I see. Yes," he mutters. "I had a dealing with him, just earlier." </p><p> </p><p>Morgana cannot help the way her jaw tenses at this information, the way her eyes darken in worry and anger. <i>If that's where Merlin was this morning, I shall-</i></p><p> </p><p>She stops the thought. She would swing for Aredian, but if she did, she'd be thrown into the dungeons. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh?" she asks, her voice dangerously still bordering on anger. </p><p> </p><p>Aredian takes a slow step forwards, the chains hanging from his belt clanging loudly as he does so. He notices the subtle anger in her face, even if she may be trying to hide it behind an innocent exterior. <i>This girl may be terrified,</i> Aredian smirks briefly, <i>but she's a fighter.</i></p><p> </p><p>"Yes," he replies, his voice rough and deep. "The boy is somewhat of a loose bow. An arrow that unintentionally comes free from the shelf of the weapon, causing mass destruction wherever …" he says slowly, spacing out the syllables, " … it may <i>strike</i>."</p><p> </p><p>Morgana swallows thickly, her fingers aching from constantly winding around each one. <i>Why is he talking in metaphorical riddles? And … oh, Gods,</i> what <i>has Merlin said? What web of manipulation has Aredian trapped him in?</i></p><p> </p><p><i>Where even</i> is <i>Merlin?</i></p><p> </p><p>"I think that it's perfectly justified," Morgana says. The words even surprise herself, but she will not stand the man any longer. She steps forward and scowls at him. "Whatever Merlin may have said, is surely, only because you trapped him into a corner. You are a brute, and a wretch. You probably smirk at Uther when his back is turned in the same way you smirk at us. He is your very gullible supplier of riches. For as long as you find some random person to blame for having magic, you get your money, you disgusting, pathetic man."</p><p> </p><p>Aredian's eyes are dark. His jaw twitches. His lips are pressed into a thin line. A rumbled <i>hmm</i> sounds deep in his throat. </p><p> </p><p>Morgana stares at the man. She had thought that he would start laughing, but he did not. He is anything but amused, it seems. </p><p> </p><p>"It appears that I have <i>two</i> loose weapons on my hands," he says darkly. "That's quite a mouth you've got on you, Lady Morgana," he spits, taking three quick strides towards her. "You dare to disrespect me such?" </p><p> </p><p>He is now so close that she has to look up to see him. Her eyes are stern, but her throat is beginning to constrict again. He looms over her like a shadow. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes," she whispers shakily. </p><p> </p><p>He smirks darkly. "Not so mighty now, are you?"</p><p> </p><p>Morgana somehow finds the courage to jut her chin at him in spite of the terror pumping through every vein in her body. She can feel his control as if it is palpable in the air. </p><p> </p><p>"Go on, then, my Lady," he whispers. "Dare to take me apart with your monstrous magic. Merlin managed to restrain himself."</p><p> </p><p>Morgana feels a weight come crushing down on her. The air is pulled from her lungs and the room spins. <i>Aredian knows!</i> </p><p> </p><p>She cannot remain angry or stern. The fear rises up through her body, like the tallest and most devastating wave in the most stormy ocean. It washes over her and almost knocks her out. But then, it reaches her her fingertips. They tingle so powerfully that it's almost painful. The tingle spreads throughout her body.  Her heart thumps as her magic suddenly becomes uncontrollable again for the first time since confiding in Merlin. </p><p> </p><p>Areidan watches the Ward's eyes glow orange in a flash of light. Before he can move out of the way, he is blown halfway across the room, crashing onto the stone floor with an enraged groan of pain. </p><p> </p><p>Morgana stares in horror. Her whole body feels like it has been taken over by her magic. Her <i>fear</i>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>What do I do now? Merlin- I don't even know where he is! Aredian is-  I've just-</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Morgana has to stumble onto a nearby chair before she faints. She watches through a spinning focus, unable to breathe, as Aredian stands. </p><p> </p><p><i>"Witch!"</i> he bellows, pointing at her. <i>"Guards!</i> Arrest the Lady Morgana!"</p><p> </p><p>                                    _________________</p><p>XI</p><p> </p><p>Gwen's graceful footsteps along the corridor of the West Wing begin to slow. She could swear that she hears a man shouting somewhere up the small staircase. A frown elegantly creases her forehead as she listens.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>"…. arrest the Lady Morgana!"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>The maid gasps and takes a step backwards, the woven basket dropping out of her hands with a light thump. Morgana's neatly folded dresses spill out onto the stone floor. </p><p> </p><p>                              ___________________</p><p>XII</p><p> </p><p>After being unnecessarily strongholded back up into the main castle by two guards under Aredian's orders, Merlin had caught a glimpse of Morgana heading back along the East Wing.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin wanted to go after her, for to him she had looked somewhat stressed, only he had figured that a trip to visit her would only result in more suspicion falling on him by Aredian. So, he had waited until evening. He'd assumed that Aredian would be dining with the King tonight, so he'd have a greater chance of not being watched. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin passes the large oval-shaped window looking out over the courtyard below, and sees Gwen standing at the bottom of the short staircase.</p><p> </p><p>The warlock frowns and walks quicker to reach her. "Gwen? What's happened? Are you alright?" </p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head numbly, her head still tilted upwards and her soft gaze still focused on Morgana's chamber doors.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin's frown deepens as he bends to retrieve the discarded basket, carefully placing Morgana's dresses back inside it. "Gwen?" </p><p> </p><p>"Morgana's been arrested!" comes the shaky whisper. </p><p> </p><p>Gwen sees her friend's cobalt blue eyes widen at this information. Merlin swallows thickly and meets her gaze. He shakes his head, almost wanting to deny it, but frowns at the same time, angry at both himself and Aredian. And worried beyond a single doubt for Morgana. </p><p> </p><p>His head spins in a whirlwind of emotions as he hears Morgana scream fearfully and shout angrily at the same time. His eyelids falter slowly for a single heartbeat as four people exit the chambers. </p><p> </p><p>Morgana is struggling against the guards, her chest heaving, as they guide her with a horrific sense of authority down the staircase. </p><p> </p><p>Merlin's sad and deeply worried gaze meets hers for a split moment. All time seems to stop. Her eyes look wild and, oh, so terrified. He wants to reach out and comfort her. But she is fading from his sight with every anguished second, her cries becoming a little quieter but still chilling to his bones. </p><p> </p><p>Merlin turns his head, his heart beating slowly. A man with chains clanging from his belt stalks past the two servants, his chin jutted and an appearance of victory in his eyes. Merlin's jaw clenches as he catches the sickening smirk the Witchfinder shoots his way.</p><p> </p><p>A fire of vexation burns in the warlock's gut as he watches Aredian's figure disappear down the corridor. </p><p> </p><p>He can only stare ahead, listening to Gwen as she lets out muffled sobs beside him. Morgana's screams may have disappeared with the distance, but Merlin doesn't doubt that they have even stopped at all. </p><p> </p><p>He closes his eyes tight as they echo in his head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Some Words Can Be Poison</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so, as you can see, this chapter didn't actually take as long as i thought it would to write. strangely i really enjoyed writing the conflict of this chapter, and i hope i did each character justice. when i was planning what to do with arthur in the following chapters, i had to come to a decision. i feel that he wouldn't have been as accepting of magic being possessed by his his loved ones, because series 1 &amp; 2 arthur was mostly kinda naïve and easily influenced by his strict upbringing. to me, it just wouldn't have made much sense for anything else to have happened with uther (oh and aredian) around.</p>
<p>also, i didn't know what those things the guards have that act as a barrier across the council chamber doors are called -  you know the ones i mean? i did some digging and found partisan weapons, which resemble them enough. but if this is wrong and if anyone knows what they actually are, tell me in the comments! </p>
<p>thirdly, please leave comments on this chapter because it's a game changer for the story. i really want to know what you think of it :)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>hope you like this one!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>XIII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther's strong fists curl around the sides of his throne. His back is rigid against the furnished wood, as his eyes are fixated on the prodigious double doors at the other side of the room. The morning light shines in streaks through the <br/>many tremendous oval shaped windows, illuminating tiny streaks of dust that float along the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, the King cannot focus on anything but what he feels inside. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A loud creak breaks the older man from his musing, and he looks up to see his son walk somewhat hesitantly through the doors. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Father," he begins, walking until he is middway across the room. "Have you made a decision about … about what you're to do w-with … M-" Arthur stops himself, shaking his head and attempting to get the words out, "…with Morgana?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther's fists curl even tighter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. I do not … know what to do," he tells his son, his voice deep and sorrowful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur heaves a sigh as he looks ahead. He has never once seen his father like this; he doesn't doubt it's how he may have been after the death of Igraine, but, of course, he was too young to have known. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prince himself had faced a sleepless night. He had been walking along a corridor in search of his servant, when he saw Morgana being dragged along the corridor. Her screaming had instanty broken his heart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then, Aredian had followed, giving him a firm nod, and Arthur … well, he had to believe that Aredian found something to confirm his suspicions, because the Witchfinder wouldn't take the King's beloved ward from him without good reason.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Would he?</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur, now standing dutifully before his father with his hands behind his back, opens his mouth to say something  - anything   -   but the doors open again. The blonde turns slowly on his heels to see Aredian stalk in, a proud smile on his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good morning, my Lord, Sire," he bows, respectively addressing each man. "I assume you are still reeling in last night's revelation."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther looks up from the floor and gives him a firm nod in reply. He looks conflicted for a moment, before adding, "Are you entirely certain that Morgana is a … a sorceress?" he questions, tone struggling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian leans back on his heels and humms. "Yes, My Lord. I am fully certain. As I informed you last night, the true nature of the Lady Morgana's nightmares have been magic. A dark force inside, just waiting to erupt." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther's head only bows again, but there is still a deep uncertainty in his eyes. Aredian catches this in an instant and takes two steps forwards, now standing beside Arthur. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I just … Morgana was always such a sweet, loving child," the King whispers. "I watched her grow, brought her up as my own. I can scarcely believe it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur, now feeling tears swim in his eyes at his father's recollections, which, surely bring fond memories of his own to mind, goes to speak, but Aredian's sharp voice cuts him off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Indeed, Sire. It is the truth. You yourself authorized her questionings, did you not?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur's eyes widen at this information, and he stares at the man in the throne. "Father?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther shoots a brief glare at his son, before standing and rounding the throne. "Aredian was here to do his duty. I swore to myself and to him, that anyone he suspected would be taken through the questioning process … " he trails off, his voice faltering slightly, " … whoever they may have been, be it Gaius or Morgana."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur steps forwards and quickly glances at Aredian. "You had both of them <i>dragged</i> down to the dungeons-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Morgana was never dragged, My Lord," Aredian interrupts the prince, turning to face him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She was when you arrested her," he argues, voice tired and gruff, jaw tensed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes!" The Witchfinder snaps. "She knocked me halfway across the room! I was almost seriously injured." He turns to the King, who has begun pacing. "Surely, Sire, you see that such measures had to be taken. She was rapidly becoming extremely violent and out of control. I did as I saw fit, to prevent any more injuries … or potential deaths."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther stops pacing sharp and looks Aredian in the eye for a stern moment, and then back at his son. "He was right to do what he did, Arthur."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Father! You love her like a daughter!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That does not … " Uther draws a deep breath, attempting to ignore the way his son is protesting so angrily, " … that does not matter. I must protect the Kingdom, before all else."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur frowns. "But, you have always told both myself and Morgana that we matter more than the Kingdom."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther nods from across the room. "Yes, you are right, but not where magic is involved. Magic will destory the Kingdom if I do not uphold these laws. There can <i>be</i> no exceptions."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From a fair distance away, Aredian watches the father and the son with a satisfied smirk on his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther walks back to his throne and sits on it. He knows in his head that punishment for Morgana is the right thing to do, but in his heart, he feels … a deep regret. He heaves a heavy sigh. "I'm going to pardon Gaius."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur snaps his head back up. "What?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I have long known about Gaius's magic, but he has never betrayed me, in all these years. He has been such a good friend to me. He is loyal and honest to a fault, and not to mention, an excellent physician."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur feels nothing but relief at this decision, no matter how suddenly it seems to have occured. He loves Gaius dearly, but there is one thing he doesn't understand. "But, father, Morgana has never betrayed you with her magic either."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That does not matter," Uther growls. "I have such faith in Gaius because he came clean to me about his magic, whilst knowing what a heavy price he was risking. This was just as the Great Purge begun, once I had eradicated all sorcerers and sorceresses from Mercia."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And you did not view him differently once the you begun the Great Purge?" Aredian asks, scratching at his beard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther holds his gaze for a second. "No. Because he did not flee. He gave me his solemn oath that he would never harm me or others, that he only wished to serve as a loyal and dedicated physician."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur's frown deepens. "So why can't Morgana just promise you the same thing?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther stares at his son. "Because she did not confide in me about her magic. She kept it from me - from <i>you</i>  - from <i>all</i> of us!" he barks, harsh voice echoing around the council hall. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes!' Aredian humms in agreement, turning to face the prince. "Tell me that does not suggest ill-intent, my Lord."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur looks back and forth between the two men, feeling physically stuck. He has never had such authority over his father as Aredian does. And he is finding it very difficult to accept these new revelations, and not adjusting to the idea of Morgana being ... well, not Morgana. Arthur swallows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Perhaps she was just scared of what you would do to her-" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Silence, Arthur!" Uther strides over to his son, his face almost red. He points a finger at the prince. "As Aredian has already said, her secrecy implies the likelihood that she wishes to do harm. And that's a chance I <i>cannot</i> risk to take!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian's focus carefully drifts between the two, now close and both angry. But Arthur's anger, he observes …. is pushed beneath the shock and sibling-like love he has for Morgana. He turns to the prince, his lips parted to let hell loose. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sire, may I educate your son on these matters? He seems to be … failing to understand this situation the way we do."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther nods and takes a step backwards, collecting himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My Lord," the Witchfinder starts. "I have been watching Morgana since my arrival. She did indeed watch from her window the night I arrived. The moment I looked up at her, she was immediately visibly frightened. She took a step backwards, almost stumbling into her poor maid, and her eyes, they were ... so wild."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You could tell all that from down below in the courtyard?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes. I have a trained eye for these sorts of things, if you recollect my shining reputation when it comes to eradicating sorcerers from this Kingdom," he says, taking satisfaction in the fact that Arthur doesn't say anything. His jaw is tense and his eyes are sad, but he is … silent, at least. "He waits a moment before glancing at Uther. "Sire, I hope you can forgive me for bringing up such a subject, but I feel it is necessary to help your son with his … <i>naïvety</i>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther nods and swallows hard, somehow already knowing what's coming. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You are aware that you were born of magic, yes?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur swallows and nods. "I am. There was a sorceress who came here last year. She showed me my mother in a vision," he says, his voice breaking at the memory of her. "I learnt the truth." Aredian's careful focus is still on him, a sort of expectant look in his eyes. Arthur turns fully to the man. "I was angry at my father for keeping this from me, but especially for putting my mother in such danger that it killed her. He informed me that he did not know her life would be taken in exchange for mine. But I was still angry. I've always loved my mother, and he harmed her. I will still always be angry at him for that, I think. Nevertheless, he did not know."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And so, you have forgiven him?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So you see, in spite of your exoneration, that magic can be harmful. <i>Extremely</i> dangerous, even   -   that it can be fatal to your loved ones?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And what if, one day, Morgana attempted to kill your beloved father?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prince frowns at Aredian. "That's ridiculous. She wouldn't have any reason to."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther waves a hand at his son, stepping forwards so the three stand in a triangle. "You are wrong. When I had her maid's father executed for being a sorcerer, she turned on me. She spat evil words in my honour, and I could not abide such behaviour from someone I have dedicated my life to loving and protecting. So, I-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Chained her in a cell overnight, I know," Arthur says, his jaw tensing slightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes. And this … this <i>secrecy</i> is a crime that is more evil than anything. Despite all my efforts to be a constant fatherly figure of support and love, she has more often than not responded by disagreeing with me about the magic ban. Even when I declared to her that enough was enough, she continued to defy me. As a result of this, we … we have always had a rather unstable relationship. I cannot risk that she may become more unhinged in her fear of what I may have  -  or may still do  -  to her because of her magic. And the fact that she has hidden her powers from me … well, it solidifies my beliefs."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You … you think she may attempt to harm you?" Arthur asks, this new prospect whirling in his mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther nods earnestly.  "Although it pains me to admit it, yes, Arthur  -  one day, I believe she might."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XIV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the other side of the castle, Merlin storms out of his small bedroom. Thin blankets are bestrewn on the stone floor,  papers and books lay are scattered everywhere but the shelf. He had been pacing all night, almost tearing his hair out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's screams had replayed in his head for hours and hours, tormenting him and deepening his guilt. Ever since finding out about her gifts, he had vowed to look after her in a way nobody else could, for, to his knowledge, nobody but him shares the connection of magic with her. And now … <i>now, what?</i> Now she wakes   -  presuming she had even been able to sleep at all  -  in the dark light of a damp cell? <i>How is that keeping her safe? Dammnit, I should have done more!</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Gaius … well, Merlin cannot bare to be in the main chambers anymore. If all of his uncle's life work still in a damaged mess hurts Merlin, then just standing in the room is agonizing. He almost wants to reprimand the old man for being so foolish and telling Aredian the amulet was his. Because Merlin would gladly take the consequences, now, if it meant that Gaius would be pardoned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>I won't sacrifice a friend to save myself!</i> Merlin's words to the great dragon ring through his mind as he comes to a decision.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>"If you confess, the Witchfinder will just burn you both!</i> Kilgarrah had said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kilgarrah may be correct, but Merlin will not have his friends die alone because of something he did.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After using his magic to detect where Uther is, Merlin almost runs along the corridors, hurling past servants and white-stones pillars, corners and alcoves. By the time he reaches the council chambers, he can hardly breathe. But he can scarcely keep the rage at bay, either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stops in front of the guards. They stare at the servant, not lifting their partisan weapons from the criss-cross barrier. Merlin huffs and attempts to appear calm. "I wish to confess to the King and to the Witchfinder," he says, before adding, " … peacefully."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All three men turn toward the large doors. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur's eyebrows shoot upwards as he watches his servant storm in, his eyes stern, and … <i>is he still in his bed clothes?</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What is the meaning of this interruption!" Uther barks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I wish to confess!" Merlin yells. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur strides towards Merlin and grabs him by his white oversized night shirt. He drags him to the doors, so that they are a fair distance from Uther and Aredian. "What the <i>hell</i> are you playing at?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm doing something to help Gaius and Morgana, even if <i>you</i> won't!" Merlin hisses back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur stands there in slight shock at those words, failing to grab Merlin as he shoves past his master. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin stops abruptly and glares at Aredian, who smirks in return. This only enrages him further. "I am a sorcerer! I am the one who conjured the smoke!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther stalks over to Merlin, a look of harsh anger in his eyes. "Why are you confessing, boy?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He swallows and looks the King in the eye. "Becaue Gaius is innocent. The amulet is mine; he only said it was his to protect me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My father has already pardoned Gaius," Arthur says quietly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin almost collapses with the weight of relief that comes from this information, and he would have shed a few tears. That is, if Uther's leather-gloved fist weren't curled by his side. In the light, Merlin can see the man's crown shine proudly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You traitor! You will be executed tomorrow at dawn!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Father!" Arthur shouts as he speed walks over to the three. "Surely you cannot believe this?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't have any reason not to-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No!" Arthur yells, surprising everyone in the room. "You-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<i>Enough, Arthur!</i>" Uther bellows. Merlin winces. The windows surely should have smashed at such a loud noise. "You do not have authority here! I am the King! This is <i>my</i> decision!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur stares at Merlin. His friend looks … well, decidedly awful. His eyelids seem heavy from exhaustion, with dark shadows underneath them, too. His eyes themselves are … deeply sad and worried. His dark hair looks permanently pushed back from his forehead, which Arthur assumes is due to Merlin running his hands through it countless times. "Merlin, I know you hold Gaius very dear, but surely-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin rolls his eyes, ignoring how Uther's own eyes widen at the gesture. Seeing as Gaius had been excused of his crime even before Merlin stormed in, he may as well solidify his confession. It's not as if Aredian wouldn't have told Uther his suspicions, anyway. "It's true, Arthur."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then, a dead beat of silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin swallows as the weight of those words crushes him, and he watches a multitude of emotions wash over Arthur's expression. There's a denial as he shakes his head, and then an anger in his eyes. His face pales and he takes a step backwards. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The servant tries not to let that effect him, but … it's so difficult. Arthur is <i>scared</i> of him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian can hardly contain the smile that is threatening to creep onto his face. He steps forwards. "Sire, My Lord   -  I offer you my findings. I wasn't going to tell you until you had decided what to do with Morgana, but … it seems that now is appropriate," he says slowly. Merlin stares daggers at him, and their eyes pierce into each other's. "When I questioned this servant, he squirmed when I mentioned magic, and hesitated when I asked him about the magic ban, and, also, Morgana's magic. It told me that he thinks otherwise, or that he knew something of Morgana we did not yet know."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Do you see now, Arthur?" Uther hisses, before whirling back to the servant. "Merlin, tell me this," he proposes, his expression softening slightly. Almost to … a vulnerable curiosity? Merlin blinks at it. "Why should a servant like you keep Morgana's secret? Why should <i>you</i> be trusted?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Because I cared. I still do. I always will," he says. "Morgana knows that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther frowns at his reply and takes a step towards him, and suddenly Merlin feels as if it's just himself and the King in the room. It's not necessarily a pleasant feeling. "And why should you care? You are just a servant."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin swallows and slowly, carefully, flickers his focus to the King. Arthur almost suffers as he looks into Merlin's icy blue eyes. They are more intense and honest than he has ever seen. "Because servants have hearts, too. And, unlike you, Sire, I listen to what's in mine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther takes a step backwards at this, eyes widening and shrinking all at once in horror of the words. But then his expression hardens, and he straightens the crown on his head. "<i>Enough!</i> I am arresting you for withholding the truth about Morgana's magic, and for possessing such magic yourself. You will be executed tomorrow at dawn," he says coldly. "<i>Guards</i>!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin finds that he cannot take his eyes off the King   -  despite how much he wants to just glance at Arthur for what may be the last time  -  as two guards' hands grab his arms with a painful force.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. But Others Can be Healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello! i'm back after a wee haitus. this chapter was an absolute bugger to write for some reason, literally i wrote like 4 drafts of it. i also had to write a quick first draft of the next chapter so i knew this one fit into place before sharing it with all you wonderful readers! ive also been super busy with settling in my two new kittens :)</p><p>also, i realised something. in chapter 5, there's a line that says:</p><p>  <i>"Her heart thumps as her magic suddenly becomes uncontrollable again for the first time since Merlin started teaching her."</i></p><p>so i realised this, and then i thought, that doesn't make sense, because in chapter one we see merlin struggling with his decision to reveal his magic to morgana. so, to clarify, ive fixed that line, and morgana <i>does not know</i> about merlin's magic</p><p>lastly i want to note that i'm not too happy with this chapter but ive done the best i can, and honestly i've been nitpicking it for days and if i didnt get it published then i'd have just continued to do that. chapter eight is half-written already so the next update shouldnt take as long as this one did :)</p><p>enjoy, and stay safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>XVI</p><p> </p><p>Morgana hugs her knees to her chest, shivering slightly in the cold that somehow smothers her. Her bare feet are smeared with dust, as is the hem of her navy blue dress. A cold tear slips down her cheek as she closes her eyes, letting her head fall against the damp stone wall with exhaustion.</p><p> </p><p>The night prior had been one of Morgana's worst. The misty night of early December had sent bluey-grey hues of a depressing light through the bars of the small window above. The moonbeam had been graceful as it often is, but last night, Morgana could not admire it as she had on other sleepless nights. The beautiful white had signalled a precious purity, and even hope, at a stretch. But that, Morgana had reminded herself, was outside  -  something she doesn't think she has ever missed so much. It beams from the moon so high in the sky, watching over the world without one single care.</p><p> </p><p>Morgana wishes she could be so carefree. And, well … just free, really. </p><p> </p><p>A loud groan causes her eyelids to flicker open. She frowns and freezes slightly as three people come into view. There are two people with silver armor, she can see, as she squints through the tiredness. The third person is … </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>No. Please tell me I am wrong.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Almost in a blur, the figure is thrown into the cell with her, dust blowing across the floor as it hits the ground with a thump.</p><p> </p><p>"Merlin!'' she whispers, leaning forwards on the palm of her right hand, never mind how much she despises the feeling of the dirt grains scratching it.</p><p> </p><p>He coughs and splutters, turning over on his elbows. Morgana makes her way over to him, before crouching and placing a hand to his arm, not missing the way he winces at it. She loosens her grip and helps him to sit up. </p><p> </p><p>Wordlessly, she watches as he drags himself backwards to rest against the wall. He winces and turns to face her. And ... his expression almost freezes. His eyes bore into hers for a moment, lips pursed. </p><p> </p><p>Morgana's focus falters to his white shirt. She doesn't remember ever seeing him wearing it before  -  and quite rightly, really, given the hours he usually wears it at. And then she notices his bedraggled hair, which she remembers seing the day she went looking for Gaius and found him suffocating in the mess of the chambers instead. </p><p> </p><p>"What happened?" she manages, now unable to take her eyes off him. </p><p> </p><p>He swallows softly. "I confessed to the Witchfinder about having magic and being the one who conjured the smoke. I lied, of course. I couldn't bear it any longer. I … I didn't want you or Gaius to suffer the consequences of this alone. It's not your fault that all of this happened," he adds with a small shrug. </p><p> </p><p>Morgana's eyes soften. "I don't … I don't understand how you could be so courageous  -  to face Aredian and Uther like that, especially since you lied," she whispers. She truly doesn't; she had confronted the Witchfinder herself for his repulsive behaviour, just prior to her arrest, but she could not have gone as far as Merlin had  -  to confess her magic on purpose. She doesn't know whether or not it makes her a coward. "Were you scared?" </p><p> </p><p>Merlin shifts to the side. "Perhaps, but I didn't feel it at the time. All I felt was anger," he tells her, focus gently flickering to her eyes. "And guilt."</p><p> </p><p>"Guilt?" </p><p> </p><p>Earnestly, he nods. "Because I told you that I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you. I was supposed to look after you."</p><p> </p><p>Morgana tilts her head to the side, against the cold wall. "You did what you could."</p><p> </p><p>A pause and a slight frown. Seas of emotional pain conflicted in his eyes. "It wasn't enough."</p><p> </p><p>The King's ward stares at him for a moment, slightly taken aback by his seriousness. The Merlin that she knows  -  the one who trips over his own feet and gets slapped by Arthur around the scalp as horseplay   -   seems to be buried beneath the days of tiredness and stress and … courage. A courage that settles deep in his eyes, as if it were a part of his soul. Morgana has seen it often, even if nobody else ever has.</p><p> </p><p>She opens her mouth to answer him, but nearing footsteps cause her head to snap towards the jail bars. </p><p> </p><p>A guard appears out of the gloomy light and dust, stance rigid and disciplined. Morgana flinches as he strides past their cell. She steals a quick confused glance at Merlin who sits forward slightly. </p><p> </p><p>A jangle, a click and then a creak echoes throughout the dungeons, followed by a distant <i>'you have been pardoned by the King.'</i></p><p> </p><p>Merlin's brain catches up as the realisation hits him. A smile accompanied by a choked sob escapes him as he shakily stands. Morgana stands too, but remains by the wall at the back of the cell. </p><p> </p><p>A few ominous footsteps and a couple of muffled sounds later, the guard reappears. Only this time, he holds the arm of a very lifeless-looking Gaius. </p><p> </p><p>Merlin leaps forward and curls his fists around the bars, which catches Gaius's exhausted attention. He turns his head and his eyes widen at the sight of both his nephew and Morgana behind the bars. A struggled <i>"No!"'</i> from the physician is all Merlin hears as the sight of him fades into the darkness. </p><p> </p><p>Morgana watches, grateful tears swimming in her eyes, at the realisation that Gaius has been pardoned. Such a loving, caring, and loyal old man without a hint of malice in his heart  -  he deserves nothing more than the two tyrants above ground to grant him his rightful innocence. </p><p> </p><p>But then her focus is pulled to Merlin as he collapses against the bars, closing his eyes tight. Morgana rushes forward and places her hands to his shoulders, whispering his name. </p><p> </p><p>"What if that's the last time I ever see him?" comes the almost inaudible mumble. </p><p> </p><p>She blinks back tears as she struggles with the prospect herself, overcome with a heart-wrenching sympathy and a tinge of sadness of her own.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>___________________</p><p> </p><p>XVII</p><p> </p><p>Merlin's eyes flicker down to the floor that's carelessly strewn with bits of straw, then to the jail bars, and then upwards a little to his right. He sees a tiny window, shining a misty yet late-dawn light through the tiny constraints.</p><p> </p><p> Underneath it, he sees Morgana. Her eyelids are half-closed, and her fingers are entwined and rubbing at each one furiously. Her hair flows unkempt down her back, strands even possessing clumps of dust. Merlin grimaces; he should probably tell her, for he knows her stature and thus her standard of cleanliness. But her hair is not his main concern   -  it's not even <i>a</i> concern. And at this point, he very much doubts that it would be a concern of hers, either.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you alright?" he asks, and then blinks obviously as she slowly lifts her head to look at him. <i>Ask a stupid question, you clotpole</i> Arthur's voice sounds in his head, and Merlin, not wanting to reason with his subconscious <i>why</i> he is hearing the prince, shakes his head rid of it.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not my first time down here," she says.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin tilts his head to the side. He hadn't known, initially, that Uther had thrown her in a cell when Tom the blacksmith died. He had heard it through the grapevine, though; Arthur told Gwen, who then told Merlin of the dark bruises on Morgana's wrists out of concern. "I know, but … that's not what I meant."</p><p> </p><p>A tired smile lifts the corners of Morgana's mouth. "You're awfully pushy for a servant." </p><p> </p><p>"You sound like Uther," he laughs breifly, voice a little raspy. Then, it hits him even before he sees her eyes harden. He squirms a little. "N-<i>no</i>, I didn't mean that. I just meant that Uther … he's got an ego way bigger than this Kingdom and anyone less than him is just-"</p><p> </p><p>"An excuse to assert his stupid authority by insulting and treating the *lesser* people like they're just people he can throw in the stocks, or the dungeons. Or exile without good reason."</p><p> </p><p>Merlin winces. "Yeah, he's put me in the stocks more times than I care to count." </p><p> </p><p>"And you think that I'm like that? That I look down on people just as that brute does?"</p><p> </p><p>A slight frown appears on Merlin's face. "No. I didn't mean for it to come across that way, because … well, you know I don't think of you like that, right? You know I don't. I despise Uther with every fibre of my being. But I could never hate you. You're …" he trails off and clicks his tongue, wanting to say a multitude of words but only one finds his tongue: "… different. In a good way."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Her brows furrow, and her emerald eyes flicker. If Merlin weren't mistaken he might also say that they're a little glassy. "Thank you, Merlin," she whispers. They stare at one another for a few moments, sharing a bond that neither had really understood. From the moment Morgana confessed her fear to Merlin about her magic, it started. A deep trust that somehow is woven into their souls, so powerful as if it were destiny. Their destiny to protect and to confide. "I could never be like him."</p><p> </p><p>"I know," is all he manages to say as his gaze drifts to the dusty floor. It's a nasty reminder   -  as if the cold wasn't enough   -  of where they are. </p><p> </p><p>"When I came looking for my sleeping draft the day of Gaius's arrest, you told me that you didn't think Uther would believe I have magic," she recollects, a brow twitching as she shivers in the cold. "Did you really think that?"</p><p> </p><p>Merlin pauses for a moment, wishing he had got dressed this morning so he could have offered Morgana his jacket. He sighs wearily and shrugs. "I don't know. I suppose a part of me hoped that would be the case. Even if I knew that Uther was too barbaric for it," he says, before adding, "and, above all else, I wanted to reassure you. I wanted to believe that you could be safe."</p><p> </p><p>Morgana's tired features twitch as a small smile graces her lips. She doesn't think she has ever met someone like him before - someone with such a good, pure heart. She'd expected him to run a mile when she'd confided in him about her magic, but instead all he has done is tried to make her feel more safe and secure. Morgana has often mused that he often knows the <i>exact</i> right things to say when she is scared, and that he seems to have a real knack for comforting her when it comes to her magic. </p><p> </p><p>But at the same time, Morgana knows that he can't possibly understand <i>exactly</i> how she feels, not unless he has magic too. Which he doesn't, because he hasn't told her so. He <i>would</i> have told her, would he not? </p><p> </p><p>There's just something about him that she can't seem to put her finger on. </p><p> </p><p>Nonetheless she shakes her head of that recurring thought, and locks onto his eyes. "I'm grateful, Merlin. You're a good friend."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He gives her a faltering smile as his head tips back against the wall. He sighs and allows his eyes to close, finding a strange comfort in the sounds of Morgana's light breathing. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But that solace is short-lived as he allows his thoughts to consume him. </p><p> </p><p>For almost two years he had kept his gifts a secret from Arthur, his greatest companion, and it had pained him. It pained him to know that Arthur barely knew him, didn't know that such a massive part of what makes him who he is would also get him executed. He had sometimes wondered whether or not Arthur would have told Uther, however even Merlin knew that testing the idea was too risky. </p><p> </p><p>But in any matter, he knew that he couldn't stop himself from hoping for a future just like the one Kilgarrah pictured; rolling hills home to golden harvests, sun that shone down on Albion, happiness of the people, freedom for himself and for Morgana - for all magic users. </p><p> </p><p>Well, the old dragon hadn't exactly told him the part about <i>the Witch</i> being part of this wonderful destiny, too. But Merlin doesn't understand how Morgana's pure heart could possibly turn to such corrupt ashen as the dragon claims  -   especially now. </p><p> </p><p>Merlin is beginning to wonder whether or not that destiny ever really existed at all. Kilgarrah hadn't told him that he and Morgana were to die by Uther's hands. They aren't <i>destined</i> to. It's one thing Merlin doesn't understand. </p><p> </p><p>Processing these last few days  -  what happened to Gaius, not knowing if he would make it through alive, running around to make sure Morgana both felt safe and <i>was</i> safe, ducking underneath the shadows Areidan cast around the castle, sitting through the questionings, being arrested twice  -  is difficult. He tries it now, to wrap his head around it all.</p><p> </p><p><i>Running around to make sure Morgana was safe</i>. To no avail, it seems, for she sits across from him in a damp, cold cell, awaiting the morning which would be her last. He hates himself for not protecting her more. He doesn't doubt that she can protect herself, for she is strong and determined, but to have an ally in the fear means the world to both of them. He knows that, even if Morgana isn't aware that they are both literally one another's kin. </p><p> </p><p>To worsen things, the smirk of Aredian keeps appearing in his mind. Merlin wishes that he had killed him when he'd had the chance, but that would have only roused more panic and the pursuit for this seemingly mysterious sorcerer would have been harshened. Uther probably would have selected random towns people to be executed, just to appease his fear. The thought makes Merlin feel sick. </p><p> </p><p>The more Merlin thinks of all of this, he finds that his jaw tenses and a throbbing pain conflicts the left side of his head. He winces. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Are you alright?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin snaps his head up, eyes locking with the curiosity in Morgana's. "What? Oh - yeah, I'm fine. Just a .. bad headache."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Morgana frowns in sympathy, before a new expression crosses her features. "You're also angry. You have that brooding look. Arthur has it too." A beat of silence as they stare at one another.</p><p> </p><p>"Well," he shrugs, grabbing a piece of straw and twirling it between his fingers, slowly, as if it might break, "I'm mad at myself, for too many reasons. I'm mad at Aredian for thinking he can get away with being such a vile snake. I'm mad at the stupid-" </p><p> </p><p>Merlin stops himself. <i>-the stupid dragon who thinks he knows everything. That your good heart has nothing but malice and evil destined to spread in it. That there is a beautiful destiny out there that is becoming more and more far away.</i></p><p> </p><p>Morgana's frowns, sympathy yet … a sea of curiosity in her eyes. She humms softly, finding she has nothing to say to that despite wishing she does. Her gaze drifts around the cell as a new question finds the exhaustion of her mind. "What did Uther say when you confessed?"</p><p> </p><p>"He called me a traitor, he spat my stature. Nothing unexpected." Merlin huffs as his gaze drifts away from the Ward. "But then he asked me why I protected the secret of your magic."</p><p> </p><p>Morgana swallows, and for a few moments all the pair can hear are the icy drops of damp from the ceiling. Her focus falters over to the servant, and he reads her in a flash. </p><p> </p><p>"I told him it's because I care  -  which is true," he answers quietly. "He couldn't understand it."</p><p> </p><p>"That's because he does not care. He does not know how to. Well, only about his warped Kingdom."</p><p> </p><p>Merlin humms in agreement, before a smile flickers over his features. He catches Morgana's questioning look. "I told him he doesn't have a heart."</p><p> </p><p>She allows herself to laugh at that, even if it's just a little. "You're right. Any idiot can see that," she says, before frowning. "I don't mean you're an idiot. In fact, Merlin, I think you may be the wisest of us all."</p><p> </p><p>He smiles wistfully at that, although there is a twinge of sadness in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>_______________________</p><p> </p><p>XVIII</p><p> </p><p>Morgana's focus involuntarily drifts over to Merlin. His eyes open slowly as be awakens from a slumber. But they are troubled, his jaw is tense, and his brows sit in a worried line. </p><p> </p><p>She would be nothing but mendacious if she told herself that he doesn't look exactly how she feels. </p><p> </p><p>Her heart still pounds when guards take footsteps outside to change shifts. Her eyes still widen when she hesitantly remembers where she currently is; beneath the warm, cozy castle she had known since her beloved father died at the hands of Uther's failure to protect a brother in battle. She had, after what felt like an eternity of struggling with grief, come to know Camelot as a place of security and safety. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That was, however, until she witnessed the first execution. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was just passed her fifteenth birthday, as the crispy leaves decayed in a wondrous orange floated down to the ground. A ground that, as she was to discover, was also painstakingly home to the trickles of blood - that soon became rivers - of people who died under order of the King.</p><p> </p><p>She had been writing her annual letter to her late father - something she had found a great solace in doing - when a shrill scream echoed from outside. Confused, Morgana got up from her seat and strided to her widow. She had seen  crowds of the towns people gathered around a pyre stacked plump with straw. But her focus was then drawn to one woman who had sunk to her worn knees with cries. And then, almost as if connecting the sinister dots, her focus travelled to the pyre, and she had seen a man begging for mercy. Panicked, she settled a trembling hand to the stone sill, just in time for the King to silence the man with one raise of his hand. </p><p> </p><p>The fire torches were shifted, and the soft emerald green of Morgana's eyes were alight with orange; her gaze was paralyzed, staring at the burning man, ears echoing with cries of the woman whose tears spilt onto the oblivious cobbles.</p><p> </p><p>Morgana had spent that night crying, angry tears swelling in her eyes until it hurt. Flashes of the execution replayed in her head until she couldn't take it anymore. She'd thrown her bed covers back, and stormed to Uther's chambers, shaking with all such emotions she could not control. He had told her that she was simply experiencing shock and, that, in time, she would come to see that what she had witnessed was for the best. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Morgana, hugging her knees to her chest once again, shudders at the memory. Every execution Uther had ordered from that day on had hardened her hatred for the man until she could not hold any ounce of compassion. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, you alright?" Merlin's whisper of a tired voice breaks her from her recollection  -  something which she is secretly grateful for.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fine. Just … "  <i>Just what? Just cold? Well, yes. But also, no. Why would I lie to Merlin?</i>  "I was thinking about Uther."</p><p> </p><p>Merlin swallows quietly at the sight of her eyes so troubled. He hesitantly knows - he can <i>tell</i>, somehow - that it's a sight he will have to get used to. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>For the next twenty-four hours, at least. It's a fact that neither servant nor Lady have the heart to bear.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Merlin?" </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He looks up in reply to her quiet voice, eyes blinking tiredly. </p><p> </p><p>"This may be selfish, but … of all the people I could have been stuck in here with, I'm glad it was you. Even if our future is … bleak and uncertain at best."</p><p> </p><p>He allows himself to smile  -  a gentle, grateful smile. "You too, Morgana," he says. "Also, nobody else besides you truly knows what a prat Arthur can be. I'm relieved I have someone with me who doesn't just think he's some good-looking brave warrior and prattles on about it as much as Arthur himself does."</p><p> </p><p>Morgana blinks slowly, a small smile gracing her lips. But it's sad; they both now know that Arthur's wrongdoings go far deeper than his arrogant vain - that they seep and bleed into the aging scars of Uther Pendragon's sovereignty.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, in that gentle moment, Merlin and Morgana almost forget the final morning awaiting them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>Almost.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But yet, not nearly enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Alike the Candle, This Light Flickers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>XIX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All Morgana's life, she scarcely noticed the guards as they stood in their positions in various corridors of the castle. She had always viewed them as just doing their solemn duties. Nevertheless, recently, she has realised first hand what people under Uther's rule are capable of. She can't bear the thought of Uther's henchmen inflicting any more harm on either her or Merlin, even if the guards haven't yet been provoked. Honestly, they'd think that their stature justifies for anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As she squints at the jail's entrance, she allows her mind to wander to the dangerous hope of escapism. She knows that it would be difficult; Morgana remembers that Merlin doesn't even have magic, after all, and hers is next to useless and out of control. Nevertheless, she feels a deep yearning for freedom, once again  -  and allows herself to entertain it, rather than push it away. She pictures the towns people and their simple, quiet lives. The only thing she doesn't envy about them, however, is that they live in a Kingdom ruled by Uther. But it's a vision that seems far away, if not non-existent, if the barricade of the jail bars is anything to go by. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It'd be no use  -  trying to escape," comes a muffled mumble from the floor. Merlin, who has been drifting on and off for a while, lay with his elbows either side of his head, eyes falling closed. "We're outnumbered."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How did you know I was thinking about that?" Morgana asks, eyeing him strangely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The servant shrugs and turns over, beyond caring that he is lying in uncountable pieces of straw. Truthfully he shouldn't have even cared in the first place, having grown up on a farm village, but even moving to the creaky bed in Camelot had been a small luxury that he may have let himself get too comfortable in. "I took a guess."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>___________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin closes his eyes once he turns away from Morgana. He hates that he depleted her hope: if anything, he wants nothing more than to escape, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he is still wondering whether or not he should tell Morgana of his magic. Or more, perhaps wondering how exactly to approach it, since using his magic would be the only way they could escape. His Mother had realised whilst he still lay in a cot; Gaius had found out after Merlin saved his life. Neither two had been told directly. That was, until Arthur and Uther. Never had he imagined that he would be shouting his gifts to the monarchs holding all of the power and threat. The only time he actually told someone of his magic, it landed him with a death sentence. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And neither had he imagined that Morgana would stride into his chambers late one night, tears burning her eyes and panic trembling in her voice, the secret of her magic revealed by a tight whisper. She had <i>trusted</i> him after Gaius. He has since felt proudly thankful to share the knowledge of her gifts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Only, what kind of a person does that make him? To listen to some uncertainty coiled in warnings that may never come to pass? Why had he never just told Morgana that they are kin, that she isn't completely alone? To be brave enough to tell her exactly what she told him? To remind himself that she would never hurt him like Uther and Aredian had?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why <i>hadn't</i> he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The anger Merlin feels towards himself morphs into a decision that should have been made long ago. But as he opens his eyes to turn to Morgana, the jangling of keys resounds again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin feels an urge to protect both of them from the visitor, but then he hears the low mumble of an unmistakable voice. Merlin realises that the man is probably more scared of them than they should be of him; somehow, he doesn't think this man's visit implies danger. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin closes his eyes again, although he has no intention of falling asleep. He wants to hear what the brute has to say for himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXI</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A slight gasp Morgana wishes she'd choked back escapes her as she locks eyes onto the visiter. His leather jacket creaks in the almost intolerable silence, crown forsaken. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Morgana, I ... " the old man starts, but then stutters. He never takes his gaze from her, expression contorting strangely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana stands, clenching her jaw, tears that she doesn't necessarily feel welling in her eyes. The King takes one step backwards at the movement, and Morgana feels an air of authority she doesn't recall experiencing since before Aredian's arrival. She scowls at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You what?" she asks. "You wish to apologise? I highly doubt that." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther opens his mouth, but then closes it. "When I look at you, my … my child, I no longer see the young girl I took in as my own. I see a stranger, and a monster." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Those words shouldn't have effected Morgana given her abhorrence for the King. Only, they ring true to something she said to Merlin a few days ago. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>'He thinks of you like a daughter.'</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>'Yet he'd treat me like a monster.'</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's because I was never yours. I was never your child," she tells him, jutting her chin. "For a long time, I, too, have seen a monster. But it was not always myself." Her eyes grow stern. "It was you, and your brutality."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That brutality has kept the Kingdom safe!" Uther barks, but then flinches even as Morgana stands perfectly still, as if she may have taken vengeance on the outburst. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Has it? How many have come here, posing as innocents  -  fooling you every time  -  only to be sorcerers seeking to harm you or your son?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That is because all sorcerers are evil-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, my Lord. It is you who made them such. Before the Great Purge, they never wished you any harm. They obeyed and respected you, did as you asked when you wished for an heir. You knew the price. You knew that Arthur's birth would result in some kind of war that neither side would ever win. It is you who begun the Great Purge. It is you they are angry with. You are the reason they have chosen to use their gifts for evil." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The King takes another step backwards and flexes a hand. At once, two guards step either side of him, swords raised. Uther seems to relax a little, and an almost austere expression appears on his face. "It is a mercy that Gorlois died when he did, before he had the misfortune to witness this … this darkness within you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's heart feels a sharp jab. A vexation boils in her veins as she remembers how loving and kind her father was. He had once told her that he did not agree with Uther's hatred of magic in spite of understanding his reasons. In fact, Gorlois had once sat a seven year old Morgana on his knee and told her that he would love her all the same if she had magic, that it would only brighten her already beautiful soul. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Merlin had not long ago told her that evil is only in the hearts of those who fear it; that those who believe in virtue shall have it, and those that don't shall forever drown in the sufferings of iniquity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uther, on the other hand, had once told an eleven year old Morgana that magic will only corrupt one's soul and turn their heart to dark ashen. He had screamed it at her for no good reason, had terrified her right down to the bone. But these days, it angers her. It angers her that Uther could ever think so lowly of her beloved father, that he could think so grievously about her kind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The past days of being unable to look at Uther for more than a mere moment  -  the days of being fearful in his presence  -  seem to be withdrawing from Morgana's mind. Now, she looks into the wretch's eyes. They are certain; certain of the past, of the present, and of the future. Unequivocal in the face of his actions towards her kind, towards her father in battle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She feels her magic rise rapidly through her veins, blood boiling in indignation as she glares coldly at the bigoted excuse for a King in front of her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her fingertips are almost on fire as she forgets everything around her, as if all she can focus on now is the sense of vengeance she has been wanting to-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A rather loud cough from Merlin snaps Morgana to the present, and she flinches. The cell relents its angry cloudiness as Uther comes into vision, looking at her vacantly. She frowns as she feels her magic sink back down, as if being tugged at by a safety anchor in her soul. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She steals a quick confused glance at Merlin, who is still lying with his back to her. Taking a deep breath, she looks back to Uther. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My father will always be a better man than you will ever be, Uther Pendragon. He had kindness and acceptance in his heart. Yours is twisted in the fears and mistakes of your past, and I pity Arthur."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The King, then, to Morgana's subtle surprise, nods blankly. "You are free to think whatever the malice of your magic causes you to think," he says. "But it hasn't changed you. You have always been a difficult, stubborn child. Always rebelling against me, disrespecting my decisions as King."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's jaw tenses as she takes a step forwards. "That's because you are a man ruled only by fear. It makes you weak, Uther. It makes your Kingdom weak. And, God forbid, it has surely weakened your son. You will only continue to make enemies this way, as you have made an enemy out of me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The stoical grey eyes of Uther Pendragon do not falter, but nevertheless he takes one step backwards, further into the security of the guards.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't worry, my Lord," Morgana mutters, mocking in her tone. "You shall not have to fear me once you have had me eradicated from this world." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At these words, Uther sighs, and Morgana could almost swear there are tears in his eyes. "It brings me no pleasure, Morgana. I will always regret having you executed, but … the Kingdom's safety must come before anything else."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I expected nothing less," she whispers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Taking the cue that this conversation will seemingly lead nowhere, Uther swallows. He then turns and strides out of the cell, cloak whipping in the silence. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>   __________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eyelids flickering, Morgana sinks back down to the floor, now almost numb to the cold. Dust floats and straw scratches along the stone. She hears a muffle and glances over to Merlin, who is clumsily sitting up. Morgana muses that he really does need to rest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Er … are you alright?" he asks, eyeing her strangely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm … I'm alright," she mumbles, shaking her head. "I assume you heard all of that, with Uther."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin freezes and then nods. "I figured that he wouldn't have been best pleased with a peasant like me listening to your conversation  -  er, <i>argument</i>  -   so I just sort of ... pretended to be asleep."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She smiles a little. "Very tactful."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin humms as he absently picks up another piece of straw to fiddle with  -  a habit Morgana has watched him do over and over since this morning. "What's on your mind?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slowly, he eyes her. He fidgets. "Er … our impending dooms, stuff like that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana eyes him incredulously. "I'm being serious."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His uncertain gaze flickers to her, expression deadpanning. "I''m thinking about … about something I should have told you a long time ago."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana frowns at this, and really takes the time to look at him. At the way he suddenly can't look at her, shadows of fear in his eyes. One of their mutual constants is honesty  -  the ability to look the other in the eye and see the purity of the other's soul and everything that lays there, without having to shield anything from fear of either rejection or persecution. But right now, Merlin is almost acting the way he may have acted when in the King's presence; a quiet shell of himself. It screams that he has buried something far below, even whilst with her. It screams dishonesty. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And what's that?" she asks, voice dangerously quiet. A strange tension between them is palpable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unable to endure the feeling of her wary gaze crushing him, Merlin slowly turns to face her. But his lips remain pursed, the answer to Morgana's question still unanswered. Waiting to withdraw and slowly unknot the tension.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana peers at him, trying to ignore how his silence unnerves her. "Perhaps I am wrong, but … for a long time, there has been something about you that I haven't been able to place. It's … " she trails off, eyes starting to widen as she stares at him. "When you were arrested, you told me that none of what has happened was my fault." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin swallows as he tries to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He nods. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But this ... this wasn't <i>your</i> fault, either. Why would you have given your life to be in here with me if you aren't at fault?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin frowns, heart pounding in his chest. This wasn't at all how this was supposed to go. He finds that his eyes are drawn to hers, even if he were to try his hardest to drag them away. "Morgana, I-I … "</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You <i>are</i> the one who summoned the smoke!" she whispers shakily. "You … you have <i>magic</i>?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A defeaning beat of silence. Merlin swallows and shakes his head at himself. Morgana feels her eyes burn. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wh-why did you never say anything?" she whispers, tears choked in a somber cry. Merlin feels nauseated looking into the sheer hurt in her eyes. Nothing more. Just hurt. It hurts him, too. Hell, it agonizes him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I … I didn't know how-" he stutters, and then swallows. <i>No. Not that. Tell her the truth.</i> Forcing himself to look at her once again, he is crushed underneath Morgana's wrath. One that she had never directed at him until now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's confused and teary eyes stay locked onto his. "You didn't know <i>how</i>?" she repeats almost silently, tears spilling from her eyes. "I was <i>terrified</i>, Merlin!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I've always been there so you could confide in me-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Is that the same thing?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin pauses, shuddering at the slight tremble and soft vulnerability in her tone, almost as if she doesn't know the answer herself. He warily glances to her. "I-I don't ... I don't know, but … what I do know is that I was a coward."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana says nothing. There's another heavy silence as they stare at one another. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Gaius warned me that no good would come of it, as did Kilgarrah-" he stops when she frowns at the last name. He shakes his head. "They more or less made out that you weren't to be trusted, but I knew that I could have trusted you -  t-the trust didn't have any part in it," he tells her quietly. "I wanted to tell you. I really did, Morgana, and I … I wish I had."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another cold tear slides down her cheek, but in her eyes there grows a stern fire. "You sent me to the druids, when you … you could have told me the exact same things they told me. Do you <i>know</i> how many of those druids perished to the army Uther sent to the camp?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes!" he whispers harshly. "I was there, Morgana! I heard the screams. I felt the guilt! But I was naïve and I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn't. I thought I was helping you but … our kin died and there were so much more simpler ways," he tells her, pain all too obvious in his voice. He closes his eyes slowly and rubs his temple. "I knew exactly how you were feeling  -  how alone and confused. I just … all I wanted was for you to feel none of that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana swallows and softly closes her eyes. "Who's Kilgarrah?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin frowns at the unexpected question, but reminds himself that if anyone has the right to ask questions right now, it's Morgana. "He's the dragon Uther imprisoned to lure the dragonlords to Camelot so he could execute them." Morgana angrily rolls her eyes at the mention of yet another act of immorality from the brute. "He told me that I was always destined to protect Arthur, that one day we would unite the lands of Albion, where all sorcerers may be free."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana gives him a strangle look, head aching in the whirlwind of all of this information. "Under <i>Arthur's</i> rule?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin nods. "Apparently, but … now, I don't see how that can happen." He allows his gaze to meander from the conflicted woman before him for a few moments. Swallowing painfully, he looks back up to her. Only, he suffers; slowly, he blinks -  looks into her eyes. The eyes of someone who has trusted him, put her heart on the line only to be lied to. "I won't ever forgive myself for leaving you to be persecuted alone. <i>Truly</i> alone. You should have known that you had me as an ally  -  as kin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana tilts her head to the side. "I should have done. I won't pretend to be fine with it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shakes his head. "No, I … I wouldn't want you to."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her eyes flicker over his face. She watches as he looks anywhere but her. But those eyes  -  those goddamn eyes that could turn seas of stormy ocean to waves of beautiful equanimity in seconds. The eyes to which honesty and kindness call their home. The eyes she is yet to see turn orange as hers does. The eyes which harbour a glorious, courageous soul.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"As much as I am still angry at you … at least you did something. Because of you, all this time, Merlin, I was never completely alone," she tells him. "It would have been more reassuring to know you had magic too, but ... you helped me feel safe in a place I feared awakening in each morning. I cannot be irate at you because of that," she whispers, watching the tears fill Merlin's own eyes. "I could never hate you, either."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this, Merlin eyes her steadily, a hurricane of emotions shifting among the blue. "I'd hate to die with things … unspoken between us. With the guilt from my cowardice eating me from the inside. With you hurt."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She gives him a weak smile and lays her head on his shoulder, exhaustion smothering her like the thick blankets of snow that settle over the courtyard outside. "As would I, Merlin." </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She closes her eyes, and he does too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. With the Wind, Comes the Hurricane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>XXIII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>A few hours after Merlin's arrest:</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Arthur's leather boots creak as he makes his way back to his chambers. They are surely wearing with all of the walking he has been doing over these last few days; taking care of council matters whilst Uther stressed over the mysterious sorcerer and Morgana's revelation; regular trips to the dungeons and lower hallways to scrutinise the guards' service rota; and, of course, pacing. A</i> lot <i>of pacing.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>And <i>rushing around attempting to find various items of clothing, sword belts, and boots. His chambers are chaotic; bed sheets and weapons lay carelessly on miscellaneous items of furniture, with shirts and trousers crumpled on the stone floor. Merlin may have been a bumbling idiot, but Arthur is only beginning to realise what a dedicated job he did.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Additionally, Arthur hasn't quite mustered the strength to request for a new servant. He has decided, even if it confuses him to no end, that he would sooner have a servant who trips over thin air and drops plates of armour than a servant who does the job properly. He thinks that, really, Merlin's antics were always quite humourous.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>A misty afternoon light seeps into the chambers, once again illuminating the mess of the room that Arthur would rather not look at. He trudges to the window, shooting a strange glance at a bed pillow that lay on his desk. Arthur, not wishing to wonder how it actually got there, throws the red and gold embellished thing behind him.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>As he hears the soft thump of the item adding to the mess, he slumps in his chair and sighs deeply.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>He wants to sleep, a heavy exhaustion suddenly weighing on his eyelids. But his mind cannot bring himself to stand. So instead, he thinks. He has been doing a lot of deep thinking recently and has seemed to develop headaches. Unfortunately, they're not the type of headaches that used to conflict him when Merlin rambled or dropped things, but the type that are tormented.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur's jaw tenses. The silence of the chambers is haunting him. The silence of even the dining hall haunts him. To guards or servants in the castle, nothing has changed. But to Arthur, since Merlin and Morgana's arrests, there has been a defeaning silence that left him agonized and raw. Like an open wound.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur's hands tighten around the armrests, index fingers tapping repeatedly on the shining rotund wood, when two knocks sound at the door.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Reluctantly, Arthur pushes away the tiny hope that any time now a black consciousness may relent and he may wake up in a new day, groaning tiredly as Merlin yanks open the curtains. That all of this may turn out to be some horrid nightmare. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Enter!"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>The doors creak slowly as two shy footsteps are a strange godsend to the loudness of Arthur's mind. The moment he turns around, his legs immediately carry him from his chair. "Guinevere?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Taking another step forwards, the maid curtsies. Arthur frowns, mouth bobbing open and closed. "Afternoon, sire."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"What are you doing here?" he asks, and then his gaze averts Gwen dramatically. He clears his throat, attempting to overcome the realisation that he had spoken rudely.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Gwen almost looks as if she wants to dart out of the room, but she stays put nontheless and politely nods to Arthur. "I wish to talk with you about Merlin, and … and Morgana  -  if that's alright."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur swallows and comes to the conclusion that Gwen may just be upset and be wishing to confide in someone about the distress the recent arrests have caused her. Even if said person is the son of the person who ordered those arrests. He smiles tightly. "Of course," he says, gesturing with his hand. "Please."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Well," she begins, fiddling nervously with the worn yellow linen of her dress. "You are a loyal person, Sire. You have a kind heart. I don't doubt that you have been struggling with the revelations of these last few days, but … do you truly have it in your heart to see Merlin and Morgana executed?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur inhales sharply and stares at Gwen. "I-" He swallows. "I wasn't actually planning to be on the balcony during the execution."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Gwen feels an anger rise within her at this, but quickly controls herself. "But you are content to be in the castle as they burn?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur's jaw tenses. "No."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"No, I didn't think so."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>A silence suddenly crashes down between the two  -  and an even more insufferable silence than before, Arthur notes. He crosses his arms to compensate for the awkwardness.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Guinevere, what are you-"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I want you to help them escape-"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Both Arthur and Gwen close their mouths. The prince stares at the maid, her words shocking, but at the same time, not at all unexpected.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"What?" he blurts out nevertheless.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Gwen sighs and steels herself. She had taken a great risk coming here and asking such things of the prince during a time like this, especially with Aredian still lurking. But she had come to the conclusion that none other than Arthur can help her with this. "Please, Ar</i>  -  Sire. <i>I</i> know <i>you have a good heart. Deep down, would you be able to even be in the</i> castle <i>at the time of the executions? To hear the drums as Merlin and Morgana are dragged to the pyre? To hear the screams as they are … burnt?" Gwen whispers, tears glistening her eyes.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur feels a lump rise in his throat at her words. He shifts from foot to foot and shakes his head, mind burning at the thought of his greatest friend and someone who is practically a sister to him suffering such excruciating deaths. Or, even dying at all. His steely blues shift upwards, almost sheepishly, to meet Gwen's desperate gaze.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I-" Arthur starts, but then clears his throat. He shakes his head. "I-I cannot help them escape."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>"Yes, you can," Gwen whispers, taking a few quick steps towards him. "But you</i> won't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur swallows and closes his eyes. "Why are you asking for my help, Guinevere?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Because if you are the son Uther wishes for, you would have had me arrested by now. But you have not," she says, hands patiently by her sides. "You're considering it."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I am not."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Gwen bites her lip so fiercely that it almost becomes painful. Tears well in her eyes as she tilts her head at him. "Arthur,</i> please! <i>I beg of you to show some mercy!"</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I can't show mercy if it will endanger this Kingdom. You know that."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Gwen's mouth opens wide and she stares at him as if he has gone quite mad. "Do you really think that Merlin or Morgana would wish to harm the Kingdom?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I don't know! My father says you can never know what is in a sorcerer's mind. He says that Morgana wishes to do him harm, and-"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"What your father says may have something to do with what your head is telling you, Arthur Pendragon. But in your heart? Ths only voice in your heart is your own."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur relents and sighs a weary, weary sigh. "What kind of King would I be if I choose to let my heart rule my head, Guinevere?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                   __________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXIV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>The present:</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin wakes and slowly blinks his eyes open. A dimmer light is otherwise a godesend to his eyes, which were suffering in the brightness of afternoon. Now, an orange streak has descended into the jail cell, interrupted with specks of black which Merlin supposes must be the silhouettes of snowflakes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But the swirling sight tugs Merlin's mind backwards. In his mind's eye, he sees a moving image.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                       ____________</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Seven years ago:</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>It was the Yuletide season in Ealdor, with the quiet sound of festive singing humming in Merlin's ears. Having been quite a frivolous youth when it struck him, the warlock often spent his days worrying the livestock with his magic. Merlin's shenanigans never failed to vex the farmers, but they'd never much liked him, anyway.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Hunith would often scold him, telling him that if the livestock were stressed, the milk and meat would be substandard at best. Merlin could never taste the difference.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>But as the livestock were stabled for the winter, Merlin lost his idea of fun. And so the small hearth, home to only few logs at a time, became a strange wonder. He loved to make the flames dance with his magic, and he admired the glorious orange colour. But one evening, Hunith interrupted him and asked him to come outside. Her smile had been so wide, so contagious, that Merlin couldn't help but smile, too.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>With an arm around his shoulders, Hunith lead her son down a little path. There was an opening  -  a large, winding archway at the edge of the forest. Natural, of course. In fact, Merlin loved natural things the most, shaped by the ground in which they grow and nothing more.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Beyond the archway were the mountains of Ascetir. Covered in blankets beyond blankets of snow as far as Merlin's eyes could see. They stretched far into the distance, and Merlin often wondered if there were another village out there, or perhaps a castle. He wondered, then, as snowflakes danced from the sky, if perhaps there were another like him  -  someone with the same fears, the same questions, the same gifts.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>He then looked up to the sky that was speckled a glorious white sea of specks -  a beautiful endless nothing. And then to his right, he saw his mother. A wonderful beam of a smile on her worn face, some wrinkles here and there, hair tied back with a makeshift headband. Love and kindness shining through her slightly worried eyes.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                 ___________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin snaps himself away from the memory as quick as he can, and he closes his eyes to shield them from burning tears. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Beside him, still leaning against the stone wall, Morgana begins to stir. She looks to him immediately as if she can sense his sadness. He thinks that perhaps, she probably can. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What is it?" she asks softly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin lets out a small laugh in spite of himself, shaking his head. "It's nothing, really."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Merlin, you really are a terrible liar at times." When he says nothing, she smiles fondly. "You don't have to tell me, of course. But it would probably take our minds off the fact that it's almost dawn."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I - Er ... I'm actually not so sure that it would."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She quriks a curiously concerned eyebrow. "How so?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the next while, Merlin relents and tells Morgana of his memory. He watches the wonder in her eyes as he tells her about his mother, of her tenderness and goodwill. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, Morgana had met Hunith before, when she helped Merlin defeat Kanen. Nevertheless she admires the way Merlin talks of her, how there is a purity to his eyes she has never seen before. The way a fond smile overrules the saddness, just for a moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It sounds wonderful," she tells him. "Peaceful  - growing up in Ealdor. Your mother really is one of the kindest people I've ever met."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiles a little, before his gaze drifts to the dusty floor as he recalls his mother's own smile. "It's hard to believe I'll never see her again," he whispers, before shaking his head and looking at Morgana. "That's what I was thinking about. And s-she won't even know what happened to me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana moves a hand to his elbow. "Perhaps Gwen or Gaius will visit her, or send word." Slowly, Merlin nods, leaning back against the wall and relenting the tension in his shoulders. But in his eyes there is a deep sadness, still. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Childhoods are one of those special things that you never let go of, no matter what happens later on in your life," Morgana says, almost wistfully. "If they were worthwhile, and happy, that is."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin turns to face her. "And yours was, wasn't it? Before Uther, I mean."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her gaze meets his. "It was  -  very much so. Although, my mother, Vivienne, died when I was very young. I don't really remember her, apart from vague memories that could just be my imagination, and stories my father used to tell me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know how that feels; I never knew my father."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana gives him a sad smile. "At least we were lucky enough to have one parent who would have moved the lands, the seas, just to vouch for our happiness and our safety."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin smiles. "Tell me about your father."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana turns to him at this, eyes shocked and glassy. She frowns delicately. "No-one's ever asked me about my father before. They get the stories from Uther which recount him to be a fine soldier. And he was, but … that's not all of who he was, contrary to Uther's belief."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Okay, then I'm asking you. Not Uther."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thank you, Merlin," Morgana whispers and tilts her head against the wall to look at him. She smiles a grateful smile that irradiates her eyes. "When I was just a child, my nightmares were practically non-existent. But when they did come, they were awful. Just … blurs of horrific screams and terrifying images, and I didn't know why I saw what I saw. All night, I would cry. But sometimes I would be so scared that I would tremble as if it were winter, even when it was summer. My father would wrap me warm and take me out into the forest. Immediately, I forgot all about my nightmares," she says, expression becoming distant as a small smile flickers the corners of her mouth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It sounds lovely," Merlin whispers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It was. It didn't matter if my father had an important council meeting or a battle to attend; he'd always stay with my for as long as I needed. That was the selfless, kind person he was. The person I always strove to be," Morgana says, an air of  sad longing to her voice. "There was one night, my father carried me through the clearing of the forest. The moonshine struck the earth, and beneath an archway of trees, was the most glorious white owl," she tells him. "And from that night, for three years, the owl showed up in my nightmares. It spread its wings and soared through the shadows that terrified me, chased them away."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin's features flicker a little. "I'm glad it did."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>''As was I." She smiles sadly. "It lasted until the Battle of the Plains. My nightmares returned became insufferable with my father away in such danger. The maids did their best to quell the fear, but they did not have the same effect as my father did. And then, after the battle, I was quickly sent to Camelot. I hadn't understood why he had returned from battle but my father had not," she whispers, eyes becoming glassy. "After two weeks of being kept in the dark, Uther told me of my father's passing."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Merlin offers after a quiet moment. When she gives him a small, grateful smile, his eyes meet hers once more. "Did your father arrange for you to come here if something happened?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana nods slowly. "Apparently he thought that it would be the safest option. And, in hindsight, it was; Uther was made a madman after Igraine's death, and everyone knew it, but … he was one of my father's most loyal friends, so there was no reason why he shouldn't have been trusted." An anger appears in her eyes and scratches her tone. "Uther bonded with me quickly, and, regrettably, I to him. I knew he was a little unhinged and temperamental, but I was young and I thought that's what was required of a King. I suppose I liked the security he gave, under the promise made to my father."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana neglects to mention that several times, Uther had threatened to break said promise, and that yesterday, he had. She wishes she could turn back time and tell her father not to even go near such a weak man. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin nods as his gaze does a slow circle of the jail cell, before moving back to her. His tendency to fidget even with his eyes makes Morgana smile. "When did you meet Arthur?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Two days before my eleventh birthday … about a week after my move to Camelot," she tells him. "He was like his father in every way. He had the stance, the stern eyes, even for a boy of eight years. But then, when he wasn't with Uther, he was … laddish. Teasing. Even in his later years of youth, he couldn't help but boast his dexterity for sword fighting."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And you just … let him, did you?" Merlin asks, amused doubt in his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Of course not! It was exhausting, really. I hit him round the head with a jug, once."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin laughs heartedly. "Nothing much changed there, then."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana smiles at that. "It left a bruise  -  something I didn't mean to do. Naturally, of course, he told Uther he slipped in the market and hit his head."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I can imagine," Merlin humms in amusment, before his eyes flicker up to her again. A few moments pass  -  comfortable moments. "There were things you liked about him, though?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh  -  right, yes," she frowns and shakes her head. Merlin doesn't fail to notice the conflict in her eyes. "He was a great laugh, and made me smile even in my darkest days of grief. Something Uther always tried to do and failed," she says. "Arthur was ridiculous and bolshy. It drove me insane, but, really, it was quite winsome." Her eyes become faraway again, and Merlin squints at her. "I cannot say much for the loyalty and kindness that once was, though, can I?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As her uncertain eyes meet his, Merlin finds himself at a loss for words. Not tongue-tied as he usually is when he stumbles  in front of a royal guest or when Gaius asks him which herbs are needed for a damaged cranium. But stuck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After all, how can they believe in something that has dissipated and thus landed them with death sentences?</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                   __________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Gwen rounds the corners to the dungeons, she finds that a small smile finds its way onto her face. She may be giving two of her greatest friends a much-needed hope, but Gwen is secretly grateful for Arthur, for she would not have been able to see them at all had Arthur not discreetly cleared it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence between the maid and the prince is interrupted by the clanging of Arthur's armor, which a paranoid Uther had insisted on him wearing if he were to venture to the cells. It surely weighs him down, Gwen muses, nevertheless she knows he must be used to it in battles. She briefly wonders if this, too, is a kind of battle for him, only it must be one that shall not be won with swords. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they reach the jail cell, they are in the shadows and are unseen to Morgana and Merlin. Arthur stands and attempts to steel himself for what lay ahead, whilst Gwen's gaze is drawn to her two friends. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen's sorrowful eyes find Morgana first. With her head resting on Merlin's shoulder, her focus seems to be stuck on the ground. There is a deep frown on her face, and Gwen tuts softly at this. Whatever must be going through Morgana's mind down here, Gwen really can't imagine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When she looks to Merlin, he seems tired. Very tired, in fact, head tilting to the side to rest on the top of Morgana's head. He's still in his bed clothes, Gwen realises, and she frowns in sympathy. He really must have been in a state this morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen had also also failed to realise how close they actually are. Yes, Merlin brings Morgana flowers when she is struck by a malady or an awful nightmare, and, yes, Gwen often catches them talking in corridors. But never had she thought she'd see them dozing off, so graciously uninhibited. Nevertheless, she supposes that being in a jail cell is enough to bond people for life   -  not to mention their shared gifts, too. But as she smiles softly at this, she's not long distracted by Arthur's quiet mumblings to the guard currently on shift.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> <i>"You may be relieved from your duties now."</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>But, Sire, I cannot leave the prisoners before my shift is over."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>"I assure you of my safety, Sir Frederic. As a guerdon, I'm letting you go early. Don't worry about me, though   -   I have my sword."</i> Gwen watches from the sidelines as Arthur taps his swordbelt. <i>"And, as we brothers know, a sword is always guaranteed protection, no matter the adversary."</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen resists the urge to frown. <i>Just how stupid are these guards?</i> But her question need not be answered as Sir Frederic vacates the dungeon, a buoyant smile on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur shoots Gwen a glance as he hands her the cell key. She gives him a small smile and simply stands there. After a moment's confusion, Arthur gestures for Gwen to go in first. She muses that he may be hesitant and, for one slightly wondrous but rare occasion, wishing to follow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She also quickly notes that he wouldn't have sent her in first if he didn't trust   -  even in the slightest   -  that Merlin and Morgana would not harm her. But he's very close behind her, so there may be a very fine line between his beliefs. Even still. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a small smile nevertheless, Gwen slots the heavy key into the lock. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_______________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXVI</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prisoners scarcely have time to stir as there is yet another almost defeaning clank before them. Morgana draws in a shaky breath and squints as she watches the two figures step in. Due to the ever-descending darkness of dusk, the jail cell is the only visible thing. Beyond that, it's almost as if the whole castle has been swallowed up by the emptiness of the abyss. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin stands. In the unexpected awakening, he blinks his eyes tiredly as one of the figures comes into sight. The other one, however, stands in the shadows, unknown. He supposes it must just be a guard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Swallowing, Merlin flickers a wary glance to Morgana. She gives him a small nod, but Merlin can see that she is smiling slightly. In light of this, Merlin's moves to Gwen, and finds that he can't help but smile, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The maid speaks her mistress's name before she clasps Morgana in a tight hug. Morgana closes her eyes tight as tears roll down her face, returning the hug with as much strength as she can muster. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I've been so worried!" Gwen says, biting her lips in concern. "I had no idea what Uther may have done to you!" The hug breaks, and her gaze finds Merlin quickly. Her hands frett in front of her as she quickly embraces Merlin. "Or to you," she elaborates in a whisper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin nods as his gaze stays on the maid. "It's good to see you, Gwen."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You, too," Gwen smiles softly at her two friends. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How's Gaius?" Morgana asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He has quite a few bruises and scrapes, and he's exhausted," Gwen says quietly. "But he's recovering. I've been to see him a few times since this morning." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin feels his eyes burn at the mention of the physician. Suddenly Gaius's voice echoes in his head, and Merlin closes his eyes. He hears Gaius's low chuckle, his ramblings about medicines, and the many times Gaius reprimanded Merlin for being such a <i>foolish boy</i>. They become loud as his ears begin to ring. But then they stop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A defeaning silence, instead. A beat of quiet, and then more words of Gaius's sound in his head. But this time, it's so gentle, so tender to Merlin's overdrived mind:</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>'And you are like a son to me.'</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin winces sharply. He screws his eyes shut and rubs at his forehead with his palm, trying to get rid of the voices  -  of the sorrowful pain they bring him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Merlin?" he hears Morgana whisper warily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you alright?" he hears Gwen ask. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Er  -  no. Um, yes. Yeah, I'm-" Merlin ceases his rambling as his gaze snaps to the left. Out from the darkness of the cell, a guard steps out from the shadows, coming to stand beside Gwen. Only, it's not a guard  -  as Merlin had first assumed  -  if the absence of a barbute helmet and a visible blonde head of hair is anything to go by. Merlin makes a soft sound with his nose resembling a scoff, and he blinks slowly  -  oh, ever so slowly. "I'm … I'm fine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur swallows heavily. His focus is stuck on Merlin, perhaps because he is in shock, or because he refuses to look at Morgana, whose curious gaze followed where Merlin was staring. Arthur's steely eyes shift, slowly, to his sister's. Gwen watches Arthur. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A heavy atmosphere is palpable between the servant and the prince, Morgana realises. She glances at Merlin whose fists are clenched, however uncharacteristic it may be for him. His eyes aren't angry, though. She senses he wants to say something   -  anything. But what can he say? Morgana really doesn't know. She doesn't think anyone knows. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, slowly, she raises her head. "Arthur."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prince stares at her, mouth bobbing open and closed as his hands twist by his sides. His armour clanks. "Morgana," he whispers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen steps forwards so she is beside Merlin, who is stll seeemingly unable of dialogue. To a stone wall, she gives a faint smile, having felt that one is needed only unsure where to direct it. "Perhaps you should tell them why you're here, Sire."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin's gaze floats to Gwen. <i>Sire</i>. Surely not. Surely, they have surpassed the line they had always claimed was impossible to cross. But cross it they have, it seems. And still, she calls him sire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Er, yes," Arthur starts, clearing his throat. His gaze misses Merlin's with such a distinct movement that it could only have been purposeful. "I've … I have something to say."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana sighs sadly. "If it's news of our impending executions, don't bother. Please."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At once, Arthur's eyes darken, and he dips his head. He doesn't bother to blink back the tears in his eyes. He clears his throat again. "No  -  it's actually the opposite."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana and Merlin share a lingering glance, and their minds cast back to to their many conversations they've had about Arthur and the intractable following of his father. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We're helping you escape." </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prisoners' heads snap towards the prince. Morgana narrows her eyes at her brother who is standing there, a quiet and uncharacteristic shell of himself. Merlin almost feels the need to pinch himself, because there's no way in the heavens that this can even be a mere concept of reality. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther, letting sorcerers free, of his own will? Really, it's a fine thing. Unreal. It has to be. It's almost as impossible as him giving me a day off.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>These thoughts whirl around Merlin's head, the hope that once existed being drowned out by severe doubt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he turns his head, he meets Morgana's gaze. The same disbelief glints in her eyes, only they shine a hope, too  -  something he hasn't encountered since this whole thing started.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Merlin's frown only deepens as his gaze shifts from Morgana to Arthur. Whilst he supposes Morgana must have her reservations, there is a new hope for them. Merlin, of course, understands this; he wants to feel hope, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Only, his mind casts back to that day he and Arthur argued about Gaius's treatment at the hands of the monarchy. The way Arthur had so blankly stood up for his father, even though both knew he felt a guilt perhaps deeper than the Lake of Avalon itself. The servant and the prince look at one another for a moment. "You?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur visibly draws back as if the words were a joust and the splinters had been impaled through him. He blinks. The way Merlin's tone edged on cold and distant  -   something he would expect of his sister, but never Merlin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>You?</i> he had said. As if there isn't a hope in the world that Arthur is capable of shielding his heart from his father's unruly head, and doing what <i>he</i> sees fit. "Yes," Arthur says, blinking at his fr-  his <i>friend?</i> Is that what they are anymore?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What's changed?" Not Merlin  -  this time, Morgana.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur bites back an impatient sigh, stealing a quick glance at Gwen. "We don't have much time to go over the plan. We must be vigilant; Aredian's been sneaking around even though his job is finished  -  for … uh … all intents purposes, I mean."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a shift in the atmosphere as Arthur casts his gaze around the room. He almost shivers in his armour, but he doesn't think it's from the cold. It's the words on the tip of his tongue  -  words he has never, and never thought, he would have to speak. "Do either of you know any …" He clears his throat quietly, " … fire spells?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin holds back a sigh. Not angry, nor impatient. Not this time. It's more sad, perhaps. Pitiful. "You'll have to be more specific."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur purses his lips at Merlin's answer, a reply becoming tangled in his throat. The more the servant uses this cold tone, the more Arthur muses that his own wrongdoing must go deeper than he had thought. For, Merlin   -  oh, loveable and cloddish Merlin   -   would never be distant just for the sake of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen watches the interaction with a strong sense of longing and sadness. An era that once was   -  insults and teasing;  banquets and ridiculous hats; quests and heroism   -  seems to have drifted afar.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pushing that aside, Gwen steps forwards. "The escape will be a lot easier if you're both outside the cells, so it'll have to take place as you're being lead to the pyre," she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana frowns and flickers her gaze among the three. "That doesn't give us much time to do, well … anything."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin lightly shakes his head away from Arthur as he considers this. His tired eyes look thoughtful for a moment. "No … no, it doesn't. But it gives us just enough." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen nods. "One of you will need to set the pyre alight."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I … I can't," Morgana says quietly, before dragging her eyes to Merlin. He's already looking at her, though, with remorse darkening the blues of his eyes    -   an unspeaking yet already spoken apology. Her brows flicker gently  - a tiny movement, but she knows Merlin sees it. She looks from his sad smile to Arthur. "It'll have to be Merlin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur steps forwards, boots thudding softly and carefully. He eyes his sister with the utmost bewilderment. "You don't know any spells?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana shakes her head, wisps of raven curls escaping the low tousled chiffon she had crafted in her hair in an attempt to keep dust from it   -  even though she knew at the time that it would be futile. "No, and we don't have time to explain it. Merlin's the only one who can do it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Okay, well, you must run as soon as the spell is done," Gwen proposes. "It'll be chaotic, but hopefully that should distract the guards."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suddenly, upon registering Gwen's words, Morgana feels a raw mist enclose around her already cold body, as if the dungeon walls have disappeared and the snowstorm swallows her up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"You must run.'</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To run from Camelot, Morgana muses, has been one of her lifelong dreams. To forever leave the restraints of Uther Pendragon, to be free from the many screams and seas of blood that has always haunted her, to break free from the fear she hates he made her feel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, as Morgana hears Merlin swallow quietly beside her, she cannnot bring herself to completely want that. Not in this moment, anyway. She may have been angry at Arthur initially, but in front of them, he stands granting them their freedom. She had, in fact, once told him that he is a better man than his father. Morgana may not have always believed it, but she knows it, now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>To think of the prospect of leaving Arthur whom, darn it, she still loves like a brother; to leave Gwen, whose friendship she holds so dear; to leave Gaius, whose kindness had been her lifeline since before she can remember, has her heart painfully tight as if someone is seizing hold of it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, as her gaze slowly moves to her confidante, she recalls that slinging her hook into the unknown is necessary if she wishes to see another dusk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin, unaware that he is a spectacle to Morgana's sad eyes, does his very best to choke down the tears. Not even a week ago, he had been forced to accept that Gaius may have perished under Uther's rule and Aredian's brutal torture. As if that wasn't arduous and exhausting enough, he now faces the challenge that he is the one leaving the fondness of his uncle -   without even saying goodbye, either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thankfully, before Merlin weeps, he is broken from the thoughts when Morgana speaks again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We won't be able to run for very long without being outnumbered. Uther will probably send an army after us," she whispers, before turning her head to Merlin, who, going by the flickering change in countenance, evidently shares her concern. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, I know. There's … " Arthur hesitates, " … there's nothing I can do to stop that. And this time, I mean that." He pauses again when he sees an obvious rejoicing of Morgana's unsure features and Merlin's tense eyes. "We'll be providing you with horses and supplies at the entrance of the Brechfa forest."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin inhales tiredly. "Where are we meant to go?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The question lingers heavy in the air as the reality of them forever running from Camelot seeps in. Occasional drips from snowmelt outside and the woosh of a new layer of the flakes is almost piercing to everyone's ears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur bites back tearful emotion. "First, you must ride into Escetir. Stay there for no more than a night's rest if you need to. Then, for extra safety, ride further into Angla. It's unlikely that my father will pursue the army into those borders unless he wants to start a colossal war with Cenrid." He pauses, voice quieting. "After that, it's up to you where you go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm grateful for this, Arthur. Truly," Morgana whispers after a few more moments of silence. "But-" she can't continue. Rather quickly, she is overcome with a every emotion she has felt these last few days, but especially the whirlwind that was the fine line between Arthur deciding where his true loyalties lie. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin glances at her, holds his knowing gaze there, before turning to Arthur. Looking directly into his eyes, Merlin hoarsely speaks the words Morgana could not. "Why are you doing this?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Because, however it may look, I'm not my father. I don't think I wish to be, either," Arthur says. But then he bows his head a little as he catches the uncertainty in the prisoners' eyes. He lifts his head. "Morgana, I love you like a sister. You are very dear to me. Merlin - you may be a bumbling idiot, but you have an honest heart. I cannot see a life where you are both executed. Aiding your escape is all I can do to make sure you get out of this, and to make recompense for the way my father has treated you. Both of you." </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As a fresh layer of snow settles outside and above ground, tearful thank-yous and some goodbye hugs are exchanged, before the prisoners are left to soak it all in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>____________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXVII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several times since Arthur and Gwen's earlier departure, Merlin had pinched himself, eager to know if this is all just a figure of a dream. But Morgana had lightly slapped his wrist, telling him <i>"Stop that! It may seem unreal, but it's happening. We're getting out of here, Merlin."</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tiny smile twitches his lips as he tips his head back against the wall. For hours his mind had been mulling over what will happen and where they'd go. He hopes in the possibility that in some years, word will be sent to wherever he and Morgana are that Uther has died. And they may return to Camelot, return to what they know, be free, and unite Albion just as Kilgarrah had always said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then, as he blinks drowsily, the wild yet oddly calming snowstorm outside a gentle woosh from above, his mind wanders to the years that fall within that hopeful possibility. Really, he is entirely glad that he will be travelling into the unknown with Morgana. He has always admired her kindliness and generosity, her undaunted nature and, except for when it got her injured, rebelling against Uther's ideals. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, not to mention, they are kin. Ambling along a country path all those years ago, never would he have let himself even hope that he may have found someone like him in a kingdom ruled by Uther Pendragon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Smiling a little, Merlin outstretches an arm, fingers flexing tiredly in the dusty moonlight. The movement wakes a drowsy Morgana.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>''What are - you can't do that here!" she whispers, lifting her head from his shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The servant glances at the confused fear dancing around in her eyes. "It's fine. Uther wants to see us executed - he won't allow his guards to kill us."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana watches warily as Merlin focuses his gaze towards his hand. A resplendent orange alights in his eyes as some words that sound foreign to Morgana's ears are carefully muttered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In all honesty, if Merlin hadn't given Morgana a small nod, she would have let herself be submerged in the strange glory of his eyes which would have sent anyone else running. She follows his gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the inevitable darkness of the cell, spirals of a white mist appear, slowly twisting and turning. Morgana watches as they morph into some kind of shape, and then two wings emerge either side. As Merlin's hand relents and drops to the floor, the bird is given two piercing brown eyes and a beak. As the mist dissipates and as the bird's wings flap ever so gently, its feathers begin to soften. The owl takes a glorious pearl colour and is almost looks as if its glowing; the only light in the darkness. Morgana smiles tearfully. Of course Merlin remembered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Managing to drag her eyes away from the beauteous sight, Morgana looks to her right. "Will you teach me? When we get out of here?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A soft smile lights his features, and he nods. "I'm still learning myself, and I don't exactly know how to improve without a spell book, but … I'd love to."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Morgana can thank him, a raucous clank breaks them both from the moment. As soon as their heads snap towards the bars, a guard is already halfway across the cell. The owl's form dissipates into grey ash as they both frown. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The guard lifts an arm, now looming over the pair. "I was instructed by the King to provide strict punishment should either of you practice magic," he says, before delivering a harsh punch to Merlin's side. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<i>Ah</i>- what the-" Merlin gasps, before the guard thumps him again. And then, straightening himself up, he walks back out, locks the gate, and stands a little distance away from the bars, as if fearful that Merlin may decide to take revenge. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin pushes himself against the wall and winces as agony thumps in his side, not resisting Morgana insisting that she check the severity of the affliction. Carefully, brows furrowed in concern but eyes alight with anger, she lifts his shirt a little.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seeing that there is a crimson knuckle-shaped mark, she glances up to Merlin whose eyes are closed and is breathing tightly through the pain. "That's probably going to bruise later on," she tells him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin chuckles lowly and glances at her. "Yeah, probably."<br/>
Morgana frowns sympathetically as a few moments pass, and Merlin turns to face her. He smiles slightly. "Don't worry  -  there'll be none of this wherever we choose to go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana scoffs lightly. "Yes, at least we have that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin sniffs quietly, keeping one hand grasped over his side. His thoughts quickly turn to the possibility that they may run into danger on their roams. He is comforted slightly by Morgana's deft in swordfighting, especially since his is lackluster at best and is similar to that of a mindless squire. He is only protected by his magic, which so far can knock out groups of bandits. But what if a situation comes by where they're split up and void of weapons? What then?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin sighs at this. "I should have told you about my magic. Should have taught you. It would have been useful for situations like this. Protected you when nothing else can."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know, but we have a plan now," she murmurs. "We'll be fine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin nods, but then absently starts to tug at the sleeve of his white shirt. He knows his gifts harness the ability for an explosive flame spell, but he's never actually done one before. He just hopes he gets right the first time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because everything depends on it, now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sooo yeah you probably realised that ive changed my mjnd about arthur. i was rethinking this chapter a while ago and i remembered how arthur actually did fight his conscience in the show, like with rescuing mordred in 1x8. i didnt really factor this in when i was writing chapter 6, so i said my mind was made up. for a while i was also thinking about gwen's influence on arthur, and it's not likely that she <i>wouldn't</i> have gone to him at some point. but, as you saw, he isn't completely accepting of the magic, and i think his attitudes in chapter 6 still fit in with his character.</p>
<p>i'll try to get the next chapter up quicker than this one!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. And Then Rises The Inferno</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here we are, folks! the penultimate chapter! i had trouble making this one flow, so i hope it's okay :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>XXVIII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin wakes from a less than satisfactory sleep. If it could even be called a sleep at all. In all honesty, it was, in fact, a very restless night. Several times, as the darkness transformed into winter hues of blue dawn outside, he had awoken. Six of those times, it was due to the impending fear of preforming the explosion spell on the pyre that would grant them freedom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of those times, it was due to Morgana twitching and turning beside him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_______________ </p>
<p>XXIV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>A few hours ago:</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Merlin's weary eyelids flicker open, and they feel so weighted as if they have not met a morsel of rest in days. The sound of Morgana whimpering still continues to echo in the cold cell.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Merlin faces her, frowns at the way her eyelids are fluttering as if she is fighting her conscience, brows furrowed as if she is disquieted or in pain. He swallows and suddenly wishes that Gwen were here. Merlin has never actually been present when Morgana suffers a nightmare, despite that he has often talked to her in passing about her linking suspicions between a royal guest and a nightmare, as shadows made their mark beneath her eyes.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>But Merlin is parted with these doubts as Morgana screams and jerks forwards. Only, she was not lying down this time, so instead she falls towards the floor. Merlin moves almost limp arms to catch her.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>In her eyes is a fire that displays orange flames, burning the emerald. But then, as that starts to simmer down, Merlin sees a sombre fear that sickens him. He finds that he cannot speak, for he doesn't know what to say.</i> Gwen would know. What would Gwen say?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Morgana attempts to speak, but the words are caught in her tight chest. She feels a cold sweat on her forehead, and then notices the feeling of Merlin's seemingly steadfast yet gentle hold on her shoulders.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Attempting to push back the hyperventilation, she whispers a question that escapes Merlin's notice. His gaze is seemingly stuck on her in slight panic. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Hmm? What?" he then mumbles, brows furrowed, as her words catch his ears.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Morgana blinks slowly and brings her hand to her chest. "I-I saw … fire."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Er  -  yeah, I saw it in your eyes. When-when you woke."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>She frowns, doubtful. "Are you sure that wasn't just my magic?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Uh - no," he mutters, and then notices his hands are still on her shoulders. Stuttering awkwardly, he releases them back to his sides. "It wasn't just orange. It was actual fire."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Slowly, Morgana draws back against the cold wall and sighs deeply. She carefully wipes the sweat from her forehead. "I don't think that's ever happened before."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Merlin frowns. "You dreamt of fire, right?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I did."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Almost sheepishly, his tired gaze moves to hers. "What happened?" he asks, forsaking that she may not wish to recall and recite her terror for his knowledge. "In the nightmare, I mean."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Morgana's exhausted gaze floats to the dusty floor of the cell. Her heart is beginning to slow. "I saw an explosion of flames. People screamed. I felt a terror enclosing around me  -  whether it was my own, I do not know," she says, before looking thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps it was yours. Your feelings through your magic, linking to mine."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Maybe," he mutters, before pausing. "Do you think I would be scared?"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Morgana's expresson becomes almost nonchalant in tiredness. "You have every reason to be. You're the one setting the pyre alight  -  if that was an image of the pyre I saw in my vision."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"I think it was. I mean ... ," he trails off, once again picking up a piece of straw and twirling it, " … it must be."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>"Yes, I suppose it must," she whispers, and then her eyes meet Merlin's. "I had the same nightmare before I was arrested. At the time, I thought it was a sign of my impending doom. But here's me now hoping it's just a vision of you successfully preforming the spell."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Merlin sighs and smiles sadly. He nods slowly and settles himself against the wall again. Moments pass, as he finds himself swallowed up by doubts of tomorrow. That is, until he is partly distracted from them when Morgana moves her hand to his wrist. And she keeps it there, as her head falls to his shoulder once again.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>As Merlin's gaze flickers to her almost worn fingers, he wearily notices that they fit perfectly around his wrist. That strange comfort gives his eyes rise to fall closed, unknowing to the fact that they do so in sync with hers.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Softly hit with the memory of their tired conversation after her nightmare, Merlin looks to his side to see Morgana stirring. He almost says something, yet is distracted by the loud clank of the jail bars. A sound that, regrettably, he has heard many times in the last two days. Yet his stomach twists as he realizes it also may be the last time he will ever hear it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The morning sun is unusually bright for winter, and Merlin squints as two guards stride in. Worriedly, he glances to Morgana whose brows are furrowed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their legs feel a relieving stretch as they are hauled up by the sentries, the prisoners' hands bound behind their backs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>___________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXVI</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A gracious beam of winter light is almost blinding to the prisoners' eyes, and they both feel the need to shield them yet cannot; their hands are still bound to the guards' tight hold. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The crisp air of December slices through Merlin's shirt, sending icy shivers up his spine. Yet, the cold is almost like a gentle breeze and is oh, so welcome to his tired and dusty skin. To the servant's mind  -    that has known nothing but darkness and worry for the last few days   -   the winter dawn is nothing but a peculiar haven.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, of course, had things gone differently  -  had Gwen not persuaded Arthur to listen to his heart   -  the morning would not feel as graceful. Or as welcome, for that matter. Instead, the seasonal cold would have painfully contrasted with the searing of the prisoners' skin as the fire arose without restraint. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana weakly smiles at this, as her eyelids flutter open, suffering in the sudden brightness. She feels Merlin's arm brush against hers over and over as they are lead through the icy cobbles of the courtyard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The drums beat as flakes begin to fall, a harsh rhythmic thud against the tremendously haphazard scattering of snow. Many people wrapped in wrags look on, gasping in horror at the sight of the King's ward. Morgana swallows and her gaze flickers worriedly to Merlin, but she can see that her friend's own focus is stuck on the pyre. On Merlin's face, Morgana discerns a deep concentration and his jaw is tense. She knows that he must focus all of his energy on the spell. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, dragging her gaze away from the amiable sorcerer beside her, Morgana tilts her head up to the balcony. With a red cape neatly clipped, a faux monumental crown on his grey hair, and a stoic expression, stands the King. She remains nonchalant until she moves her gaze to Arthur and feels her features soften a little. He stands dressed alike his father, only a crown donned. He catches her gaze and holds it there, before a smile finds his lips and his head nods once. Subtle, of course, but Morgana sees it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As they round the corner so the pyre is in plain sight, Morgana draws in a shaky breath. In the crowd that is beginning to thin out, Morgana sees Gaius. He looks exhausted, yet nervous. He smiles to her and tears glisten his eyes. Assuming that the Physician is aware of the escape plan, Morgana gives him one firm nod, as if to assure him that she will ensure both hers and Merlin's safety, and finally mouths a 'thank you'. When Morgana spots Gwen, they both smile shakily to one another. She mouths another term of gratification to her friend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But as the drums begin to become louder, Morgana snaps her head to Merlin, and then the pyre. Back and forth it goes as she recalls the same fear she felt in the nightmare. Perhaps it was Merlin's, possibly, for she hears him swallow loudly beside her. Slowly, he turns to face her, and she gives him one assuring nod. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin's features become almost expressionless as he faces the pyre, locking eyes with a smirking Aredian for just a moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Uther raises his hand to silence the drums, inevitably about to start some barbaric speech coated in apparent noble words, Merlin juts his chin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His heart thuds. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears Morgana's thud, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The snowflakes start to swirl violently as he closes his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Drawing in a steadfast inhalation, Merlin feels his magic rise at his fingertips. It's an ever-comforting feeling  -  the tingle, the fire, the understanding. The connection and the effervescence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A silence suddenly descends on the courtyard, for nothing but the gentle woosh of the snowstorm is heard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin opens his eyes and fixates his blue eyes on the naked pyre. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>"Besetta-"</i> Merlin ceases the spell when he is pulled backwards. He frowns and sees that Morgana is also being yanked backwards by a guard. His eyes widen and he hears commotion of shocked whispers in the crowd. "What's going on?" he mumbles to Morgana.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Uther. While you were getting ready to do the spell - or whatever it is you do - he-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Made a speech? I know. But why are we-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. There was no speech," Morgana says, trying to fight off the tight grip of the guards. "He said that we were to get what we deserved."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wha - how?" Merlin splutters. "The pyre was just over there."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prisoners' worried gazes flicker everywhere as they are continually pushed through seas of towns people. They look on, shocked and confused.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the prisoners are brought to a seemingly abrupt stop, the snowstorm quickens. The blustery wind is loud, sharp and most unwelcome to the prisoners' already cold skin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Merlin notices a swarm of the towns people begin to split apart, his breath hitches in his throat as some steel bars come into sight. Swallowing, he nudges Morgana. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She turns her head quickly and stops struggling against the guards  -  thankfully, Merlin thinks, because he was just about to ask her to stop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slowly, their gazes meet the other's. Morgana's eyes become glassy yet confused, and in Merlin's blues there is a deep sadness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Around them, everything stills. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_______________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXVII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After hearing Uther's unexpected declaration, Gwen pushes through the crowds of gasping people until she reaches the front. Panicked, she looks to Merlin and Morgana being lead in the direction behind. Gwen can see them whispering to each other, assumingly taking fright. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The maid's desperate gaze lifts to the balcony, where Uther is stood, leather gloved hand gripped on the white stone. She looks to Arthur at the same time he looks to her, and he shakes his head, confused focus flickering between the prisoners and her. She watches him consult his father, before looking back to Gwen, nothing but helplessness on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She frowns again, before the blizzard, the sight of the pyre, the shocked whispers, and the uncertainty clashes in her mind. Making a small distressed noise, Gwen shakes her head and runs in the direction of Morgana and Merlin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen hurls through the crowd, the cold of winter biting at her skin. She doesn't quite know what she's going to do, for she doesn't know where Morgana and Merlin have been taken. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She just knows that she must try to do something, because where Arthur is bound by duty to stand with his father  -  and undoubtedly because suspicion would be raised if he attempted to leave at this moment  -  Gwen will not stand by and let her friends fall into more danger. At least, that's what she can guess is happening. She wishes it wasn't so. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cobbles are becoming more trecherous the more she runs, and she expects to fall at any moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She thinks that she would have done, had it not been for a figure stepping in her way. She halts and draws back a little when she sees who it is. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The chains on his belt clang as he poises his hands behind his back, rolling on his heels. "Going somewhere, are we?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen, overcome with worry, tries to step around him, but he swiftly moves his foot forwards and blocks her. She slowly looks up to him. He rasies an eyebrow at her, tutting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What have you done with them?" Gwen demands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Areidan grins. "Your friends are in need of a little infamy by order of the King. Don't you think?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And with that, Aredian stalks off in the direction Gwen was running in. She stands there, in the snow, shoes drenched and shoulders shivering. She knows that Uther intends to make use of the pyre, for it wouldn't have been prepared if not. And this infamy, Gwen realizes, may mean a depraved satisfaction on the more superior  -  Arthur excluded, of course. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Furthermore, Gwen doesn't think that being brought right to the pyre by the cage will grant Merlin enough time to preform the spell. For she saw her beloved father lead the same way, and barely even a millisecond did he have between stepping from the cage and skin igniting with flames. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so, again, Gwen runs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXVIII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before either Merlin or Morgana can speak, behind them comes a loud crunch of snow. Merlin swallows and keeps his gaze forwards. He feels Morgana shudder beside him as chains clank and reverberate in the courtyard. Merlin supposes that, by now, she would know that sound anywhere.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prisoners hear a strident chuckle as the figure elegantly steps around them. Locking eyes with the prisoners, one at a time, a grin creeps onto his face. "Cold, isn't it?" he says, shivering dramatically. "Yes," he mumbles. "Oh well! You shan't have to put up with it much longer." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian watches Merlin frown. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, you will still be cleansed of your magic by use of flames. Please do not think you've had a sudden turn of luck," he answers the vacant question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I shall not think anything of luck when you're standing in front of me," Morgana says, though is careful to keep her tone from being too harsh; the towns folk and their children still look on. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian chuckles again and snaps his fingers at a nearby guard, who then makes a move to open the doors of the cage. "The King and I have come to the decision that death by pyre is too direct for you," he says, clicking his tongue as he walks closer to Morgana. He holds his amused gaze on her. "Especially you … my Lady." Morgana sneers and it takes every fibre of her being not to thrash her forehead to his and give him a wound that he would be sorry for.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian turns dramatically and his voice becomes louder. "What a disappointment you must be. How <i>betrayed</i>  your King must be!'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's gaze moves to the towns people. Everyone here, she knows the faces of. To their children, she secrelty brought food from the kitchens. To the mothers, she gave flowers. And now they are seeing her as a monster as called by the King. It's a thought that pays her resentment no abridging. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aredian turns swiftly, cape flowing. "You will be humiliated. You shall take a detour, and travel through the Citadel. What a spectacle you will be!" he says as he holds an arm out to the steel cage. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You <i>tyrant</i>!" Morgana shouts, thrashing against the guards. Snow falls fast as her stern eyes pierce to Aredian's grinning expression. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin tries to step towards her but is stopped by his own restraints. "Morgana!" he hisses. She turns to face him, and he sees the sheer anger in her eyes. He draws back. "Please, stop that. If you don't, they'll kill you where you stand. I know I said that Uther wouldn't allow it," he whispers as the commotion around them dies down, " … but I'm not so sure of that anymore."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana swallows a burning rage as she reasons with Merlin's words. By no means does she want the guards to sever her chance of seeing tomorrow's dawn. Or even today's dusk. Nor Merlin's, for that matter   -   she has no doubt that one wrong move from her may result in him being punished, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Your carriage awaits," Aredian says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin and Morgana are pushed forwards once more, strongarmed into the cage. It clanks and squeaks, before the door is shut and locked with an almighty bang. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prisoners sit up as best as they can in such a small space, made more arduous by the fact that their hands are tied with rope. Merlin leans back against the rigid bars and winces as the bruises on his side begin to thump. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana whirls around to face him. "Why wasn't Arthur aware of this? If Uther planned this, surely he'd have told his son?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shrugs as he looks for means of escape. "If Uther has any integrity, he won't have wished to distress Arthur more than he already was." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana nods as her gaze locks to his. For a single moment, there's a silent understanding. "What are we meant to do now?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cage rocks as the sound of a whip pierces the prisoners' ears. Horses' hooves clack over the cobbles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shrugs, but his expression is almost worn with everything he has felt, and too many conflctions. "I'll have to explode the pyre when we're let out of this thing. And that … that'll only give me a second or two." He swallows, voice lowering. "It might not even be possible."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inhaling deeply, Morgana nods, and attempts to give him a reassuring smile. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>___________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXIX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Forcing her cold limbs to keep going, Gwen hurls through the courtyard in the direction Aredian went. She's trying not to make a scene, but she cannot help the wheezy breaths that escape her due to the cold and the panic. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She runs past clusters of her Citadel neighbours, and she remembers how some of them used to look on as she walked the markets with Morgana, or once gave those purple flowers to Merlin. They seem distant memories, now. Nevertheless, Gwen will always hold them dear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen's ceases running as the groups begin to thin out, and instead they now crowd in a circle around an area of the courtyard. Her eyes immediately find the spectacle everyone is muttering about; already making its way down into the Citadel is the steel cage Gwen recollects seeing on the day of Aredian's advent, only this time with Morgana and Merlin thrown inside it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She gasps in fright and lets out a silent cry, for she may be too late to do anything to set them free from the cage. She has no idea what she was planning to do before she bumped into Aredian, and still does not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So she forces herself to think. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In hindsight, all she must do is ensure that they reach the horses and supplies at Brechfa. And without too many guards chasing them, that is. Whether it be by the explosion spell  -  that is looking more and more unlikely by the second   -  or another way. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen will not take any chances. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After frantically looking around for Aredian, to find him stalking behind the cage, she runs down an alleyway to the entrance to the lower towns. In this part of Camelot, she finds a quiet solace, for everyone is continuing with their daily lives as if there isn't an execution going on above. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen shakes her head and runs further to the farm houses, and then to the stables, taking every care possible not to slip on the straw covered in trampled snowmelt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When she reaches her destination, Gwen rejoices and lets out a relieved laugh. She opens the worn wooden door that's almost falling off on its hinges, counting four donkeys, and, in the stable beside that, five horses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nodding slowly as her plan comes together, Gwen purses her lips. She walks outside the stables as calmly as she can, aware of the farmers giving her slightly strange looks. She'll have to apologise to them after all of this is over, of course. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But on the forefront of Gwen's mind is the cage that is soon to come around the corner. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The snow begins to pick up again, flakes swirling in a furious cloud all around. Gwen shivers and wraps her arms around her waist, not liking to wonder how cold Morgana and Merlin must be right now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She can feel a burning lump rising in her throat. One formed from unshed tears, anger, fear that this plan will not work, worry that Morgana and Merlin will not make it to Brechfa in time. A sadness that arrises when she remembers that she will console Gaius once his nephew is gone; to deal with a temperamental Arthur even if he did help Merlin escape, and his despair at Morgana's lack of absence. Her own sorrow that comes from no longer being her maid anymore. She doesn't worry about Morgana in that respect, for she is most independent despite growing up in royalty. But Gwen stresses for the lost friendships of both Morgana and Merlin, and even now, looks to the day they will return. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because they will return, Gwen muses. She will ensure that once Arthur wears the crown, he will stay true to himself, not only for his benefit and the Kingdom's, but to grant Morgana and Merlin their righteous return. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Gwen can ponder any longer, she hears faint squeaking and clanking. As the sound becomes louder, the towns people gasp and drop their baskets or tools, gathering in lines all the way down the street. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen is just about to return into the stables to unleash her plan, when her eyes lock to Morgana's. Gwen motions to the stable, and within a second, Morgana nods. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Merlin," Morgana whispers, nudging his thigh, mindful of the newly formed bruises on his side. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He follows her gaze, managing to catch a glimpse of what he thinks is Gwen, before the figure disappears into the stable. He frowns, before realizing. "Gwen's going to cause a riot with some farm animals?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana almost rolls her eyes, before glancing to check that a smirking Aredian is still a fair distance away. "Yes. Can you unlock the door with your magic? We should be able to run in the chaos without being held back."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pursing his lips, Merlin nods. Morgana gives him a wavering smile of surety just as she hears the sound of people shrieking. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donkeys run this way and that, darting between people. A few horses winnie as they gallop among the guards and alleyways. People begin to scream as haystacks are knocked over, and guards are unpinned from their posts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin turns to the door, closes his eyes, and holds out a hand. <i>"Ongenim-"</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin feels an excruciating pain in his bruises as the cage is mightily rocked to the side, the frightened sound of the carriage horses echoing through his mind. The horses bolt forwards, cage following fast. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana manages to hold herself upwards and shrieks <i>"Now!"<i> to Merlin. He winces and nods, before holding out a hand to the door again. But before he can even speak the first syllable of the spell again, the cage crashes onto its side. </i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>And all Merlin sees is a complete darkness. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>________________</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>XXXI</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>"Merlin!" Morgana shrieks as she watches his head thrash against the bars, although is unable to keep herself upright as the cage makes its final descent onto the snow. She hears the thunder of hooves as the carriage horses  -  having snapped the leather  - bolt out of the town. But Morgana can only focus on one thing. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Trickling slowly down the side of Merlin's head is a crimson substance. Morgana's eyes widen as she pulls his unmoving body from resting on the side so he lay flat on the bars. All sorts of screams echo in her head, and she can hear Aredian barking orders at the guards to regain authority.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana frowns as she pushes his hair back with shaking and cold fingers. A small gash, angry and unforgiving, gives way to slight rivulets of blood. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She inhales sharply and glances up to see Aredian stalk over. Upon seeing Merlin, the Witchfinder raises an eyebrow. "Dear me," he rumbles, before guffawing. "But do not think this will delay your executions, my Lady." </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana's eyes darken from concern to anger. She tries to stop herself from snarling. "You think <i>I</i> did this?" Aredian simply shrugs, raising another suggestive eyebrow. Morgana forces a scoff and tilts her head at him, voice thick with satire; "And how could I possibly have done that?"</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The man at the other side of the bars shrugs again, but Morgana takes much relief in the fact that his jaw is tense. Challenged. He knows that she has a point. But much of the solace comes from the fact that he won't have reason to suspect Gwen's involvement this way. So she drags her irate gaze from him and back to Merlin. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>"I wouldn't worry about him, my Lady," Aredian suggests, stalking as he paces. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>"No," she snaps, glancing at him for nothing but a mere second. "You wouldn't." </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Aredian laughs again, clearly amused. "Save that mettle for the pyre. I fear you shall need it." </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana ignores the impudent man beside her, instead turning her attention to the benevolent one with the wound on his head. She tuts and presses the back of her hand to the gash, irritated with the present lack of his neckerchief. She shakes his shoulder, no matter how futile she presumes it to be. "Merlin!" she mutters. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Aredian loudly taps the steel with a stick, and within a second the cage is hauled upright by five guards. Morgana braces herself for the movement, prioritizing protection of Merlin's wound. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The cage squeaks and clanks as it lands the right way around, and within a second, two new horses are attached. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>As the cage rolls forwards once again, she can see the many feet of the towns people passing by in her peripheral vision, forcing herself not to look at them. Instead, as the snow begins to fall again, Morgana's mind moves to panic. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>No more than thirty strides away is a pyre ample with straw, guards at the ready with chains and fire torches. Whilst it signals death, it also signals freedom. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Or it did, at least, before this hurdle. Morgana is beyond grateful for Gwen's attempt of helping them escape in perhaps a more reliable way than the pyre. But in the desperation of this life and death situation, Morgana cannot help but wish she hadn't done so, however guilty and ungrateful it makes her seem. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>For if Gwen had not tried to help, Merlin would be conscious, and they would have at least one chance of survival, no matter of its weakness. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana shakes her head and retuns her attention back to Merlin, who seems to have made no change in his state of consciousness. Bting her lip in regret, Morgana lightly slaps the side of his face. And then again when all seems futile. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Huffing, she glances up to see the pyre come into sight. With panicked inhalations coming rapidly, Morgana looks back down and raises her arm to slap Merlin again. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>But then, as the blizzard becomes as ferocious as it ever has been since dawn, a faint murmur is sounded from Merlin. Morgana sighs in relief and secures the back of his head with her hand. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He frowns when his eyelids manage to flicker open, before wincing at the pain in his forehead. He sees Morgana looking down at him, and his senses come to as he feels the uncomfortable bars beneath him. And then, with annoyance, he registers that they are moving. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He sits up, half with Morgana's help and half by forcing his nausea down. "Ah - <i>ow</i>!" he winces once he brings a limp hand to the wound.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana tuts and gently moves his hand away. "You shouldn't touch it. I'll have to treat it once we get out of here."</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Merlin almost laughs as he wipes more trickles of blood from his head, leaving a smear of red across his forehead. He winces loudly again. "And I thought <i>I</i> was supposed to be the one with medicinal knowledge."</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana offers him a weak smile before the situation grabs at her subconscious. "Can you still do the spell?"</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He sighs, and then his frown deepens when his blurry focus finds the pyre. "Er, yeah. I have to try. It's our only chance now." </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana nods as the cage almost comes to a stop. "I'll start a fight with the guards to give you more time. It-"</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>"What? Morgana, no. If this doesn't work, they'll kill you, and-"</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>"They'd kill us anyway."</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Merlin feels the air being knocked from his lungs at those words. Yet, as panic begins to set in, he half regrets the slow nod of his head that follows. He knows that her conclusion is reasonable.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Once the cage stops, they share one final glance, heavy with concern and attempted surety. The cage is chained to the pyre, right beside the small steps that lead up to it. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Slowly, the doors creak open.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana leaps out first, going for the nearest guard. She delivers a harsh punch to his face, incapacitating him as he falls to the ground. Mind whirring, she steals the guard's sword from his belt just in time to see another guard lunging for her. With a swift movement, blood is smeared across the blade and the guard falls to the ground with a blunt thump. Morgana turns around to see a group of them charging in her direction. <i>"Merlin!"</i> she shouts, readying the sword. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>But Merlin had already jumped out the moment Morgana did, knowing that time is drastically of the essence. He tries not to let the panic rise at the sight of guards charging towards Morgana, or the sound of Uther yelling from above. Inhaling deeply, he channels the magic as quickly as he can.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>"Basettan.</i>"
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He hears Morgana scream his name, and he turns to see five guards dangerously close to her. Merlin's panicked gaze finds the pyre again, nothing having happened. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Huffing worriedly, all too aware of sound of guards' flesh being sliced by Morgana, he closes his eyes. Somehow managing to shut off all of his senses, and fighting back the ever-present dizziness and thumping pain from his head, Merlin's ears are numbed. He raises a hand. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>"Basettan.</i>"
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Loud screams echo around the courtyard, and Merlin snaps his eyes open to see flames explode from the pyre. He turns to Morgana to see her half-hobbling towards him, holding her arm as blood seeps through her fingers. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>As chaos ensues, as was hoped, Morgana and Merlin make a beeline for the gates, their legs carrying them as fast as they can move under the pressure.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Under The Muted Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>heya! im not too happy with this chapter but i couldn't cope with any more tweaking, hehe. i really hope it does the final chapter justice - yes, all my thank yous and such things will come in the end notes. and a special thanks goes to Brekker48 for giving me inspo for some Arthur narrative at the end :)</p>
<p>for now, enjoy the final chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>XXVIII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A caterwhaul of shouts and orders echo over Morgana and Merlin's heads as their cold legs carry them out of the castle gates. The snow pelts hard and every second is pain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin glances behind to see Morgana still grasping the wound on her arm, face screwed up in agony but she keeps on running nevertheless. Merlin can feel the wooziness to his head return. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The dewy clouds of winter mist act as a shield of sight between the two sides. To the guards, it is an obstruction, any ability to discern the targets being wrapped up by the mist. To Morgana and Merlin, it is an unplanned godsend  -  like the act of a deer fleeing the arrow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon hearing the sound of whinnies and snorts ahead, the escapees manage to will their legs to move faster. Lord knows they have run from many things before, probably once along this exact pathway, but they can guarantee that never have they run from an army wishing to drag them to their deaths. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sight of two horses emerges through the mist, impatient hooves stomping on the snow. When Merlin reaches his, he sees Gaius's medicine bag, and leather satchel that when Merlin unlatches, discovers his brown jacket, two shirts, and two neckerchiefs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he goes to tie the bag again, remembering the soldiers, he notices that it's a hefty weight. He frowns and rummages through the clothes to uncover his spell book. Merlin laughs sadly, turning around to see Morgana. There are two bags on her horse, too, which Merlin guesses must be food and her own clothes. But his mind snaps back to panic when he sees the blood dripping onto the saddle, and remembers her wounded arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hurriedly, Merlin jumps onto his horse, prompting the steed into a gallop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXIX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin halts his horse, letting go of the reigns and bringing his hand up to touch his head. But his focus is stuck on Morgana whose teeth are clenched in what Merlin can only assume is a hellacious pain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sparing a glance behind his shoulder, Merlin moves to unmount his horse. He walks round to Morgana and gestures for her to unmount, too. "I need to see to your arm."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana shakes her head before groaning in pain. "No. There's no time. We must keep going."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"If I don't, then all of this will have been for nothing."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's dreary gaze flickers to Merlin who has such a persistent expression that she wouldn't dream of defying him. So instead she nods, swings her right leg over the saddle, taking the decision to unmount forwards seeing as she would need the use of both arms to do anything else. Merlin gives her a quick nod, and she lowers herself to the ground. In spite of the pain, she fondly smiles at Merlin's awkwardness as he helps her down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She slumps against a tree stump, undergrowth cold beneath her but she cannot bring herself to care. Merlin grabs the medical bag from the rear of his horse and kneels down beside her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She winces as she rises her arm, attempting to stop the bleeding. "Do you know what you're doing?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin glances up to her for a second, doubt and recollection flickering on every inch of his expression. Knowing that she asked him the same thing when they tried to heal Mordred. Only, now, they haven't got Gaius to rely on. "I hope so," is all he says. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana watches as Merlin grabs white cloth from the bag. He places it on her arm and asks her to firmly hold it there. She does as he tells her, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Only, Merlin must notice this, for the corner of his mouth twitches into a sort of concerned smile. "I don't think we can rest yet," he tells her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I have a battle wound, Merlin," she mutters. "I've lost a lot of blood. Do I look like someone who can run around trying to escape an army of guards?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes," he mumbles, removing the cloth, relieved to see that the bleeding has mostly stopped. "Because right now, that's exactly what you are." Merlin quickly sets about enwreathing her arm with bandage. "Besides, you're the one who insisted we keep riding and that I *didn't* check your arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Very well," she says, holding her arm in place so Merlin can bandage it faster. "But only if you carry me to my horse."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin frowns and then quickly averts his gaze back to her arm. "Uh — I … what?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana manages to laugh. "I'm only jesting, Merlin. I'm sure I can walk perfectly fine, now," she says, before wincing at the throbbing in her arm. "I'll need a day or night's rest, I know. But not here; we're still too close to Camelot."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Er -  we need to ride into Escitir … to the forest of Geancy. At least, that's what Arthur said."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana grunts as she stands, leaning against the tree as she manages to regain her balance. "That'll take us about a day and a half unless we ride around the mountains."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin is about to answer when the very faint sound of soldiers shouting floats through the mist. "Am I hearing things?" he whispers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No," Morgana says, making her way back to her horse. "We must go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>__________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's gaze follows Merlin as he gathers logs and sticks for the fire. At first, she had told him that they're simply too damp for use. He, of course, had shaken his head and told her that he could help that. Within a second, his eyes glowed and the wood was made dry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How's your head?" she asks, briefly applauding her handiwork on the strip of bandage across Merlin's wound.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hmm? Oh -  it's fine, thanks," he says, before he trips over his foot and the logs topple to the ground with a few loud clacks. He stares at them for a second before looking at her. "Or maybe I'm a bit concussed."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana laughs tiredly. "All the more reason for you to stop fussing around and get some rest."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin humms. "Sorry. It's just that I'm used to it. Arthur-" The name catches in his throat as he absently throws the remaining logs onto the fire, " … er, well, you can probably guess."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I can. But once my arm heals, Merlin, I'll be glad to help out."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin slumps down against a log. He looks at her, pleasantly startled by a memory that hits him. He recalls when she offered to help clean Gaius's chambers, how she had done it anyway despite his insistence for her not to. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No," comes his quiet yet certain answer. "You don't have to-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Only, I insist. It's the least I can do," she says lightly. "Don't think you can talk me out of it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin rejoices and nods, giving her a tired smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's gaze floats from Merlin and to the rest of the Geancy forest — dense and not a clearing in sight. For a flicker of a second she thinks that the spindly branches in the distance look a bit like the chains on Aredian's belt. She attempts to shake her head of such a thought, but finds that the brute still stays in her thoughts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm lead to wonder where a man like Aredian lives. In any matter, he better pray not to run into us when he departs Camelot," she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shakes his head slowly. "I'd kill him for everything he's done."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slowly, Morgana glances at him. The icy winter breeze picks up, making branches dance under the muted sky. The flames sway and lick up the cold air, the occasional owl hooting somewhere in the distance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His tone was exhausted and raspy — heavy. And serious; indifferent to his usual tone. But, nevertheless, it isn't one that she hasn't heard before. His conflicted expression is familiar, too. "Gaius is safe," she whispers, unsure of the reassurance she's attempting to give him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin half turns to her, breifly glancing over his shoulder. "He nearly wasn't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know," she says. "But he has you to thank."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't wish for gratification, Morgana."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A slight smile lifts the corners of her mouth. "But you'd be a fool to think you're not going to get it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin sighs and turns around, giving her wound a quick nod. "Your arm needs cleaned properly."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Knock yourself out," she says, raising a brow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He frowns and stutters a laugh. "Thanks — I think."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shuffles forwards and grabs the medical bag, having decided it best to have it close at hand. He gently takes her arm and unbandages the dressing as carefully as he can. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tired smile twitches her lips as she tilts her head at him. "Can't you just use your magic to heal it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shakes his head. "No. Well, not yet, anyway." He covers the wound with honey, breifly informing Morgana that it's an antiseptic when she gives him a strange look. "Hopefully we'll come across some opium or hemlock to ease the pain."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's not impossible then?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Uh — no. No, it isn't. I just haven't got that far in my learning." He begins to wrap the bandage around her arm. "To heal a wound created by a non-magical source is an advanced skill. One I havent mastered."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You will in time," she reassures quietly, earning a small smile from him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nods. "As will you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You'll still teach me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shrugs and holds her gaze. "I said I would, didn't I?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You did." She smiles slightly. "Thank you, Merlin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXXI</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The darkness has fully descended, now. The black sky is like an oblivion, sucking up ths daylight and leaving nothing but unillumination and snow. Its coldness has by far replaced the prior amazement. A dusty mist swallows up the peaks of the Ascetir mountains, Merlin has found, if he squints.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His gaze floats to Morgana, and a small smile finds his face. "I want to thank you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"For having magic, even if you didn't choose to. Er, and for trusting me to do right to by you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's eyes become glassy and in them, the fire mirrors. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It could have been someone else. Someone … I don't know … different," he continues.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And would that have been such a bad thing? If it wasn't me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shrugs lightly. "Maybe."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Or it could have been no one at all," she whispers. There's a flare of darkness for nothing but a mere moment, and it's so brief that Merlin misses it before he turns around. After all, the prospect of her not having magic after everything that's happened is almost shattering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Could have been," he murmurs, careful eyes unmoving from hers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana's eyes flicker to his, frowning slightly at the strange tension. Inhaling sharply, she drags her gaze back to the fire, staring into its flying embers. "In any case, I should be thanking you, too. For being so trustworthy and so kind in the first place."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm just glad I could help," he tells her earnestly, fidgeting on one blanket and laying another one over his legs. He crosses his arms and shivers. "It did me no good to grow up without anyone to share the … experience … with. My mother was always kind but she didn't have magic." He shrugs. "And now I've got that knowing succour." His eyes find the fire. "And it's you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana smiles. "I'm glad of that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As she breifly gazes to the fire, she finds that a warm feeling of safety rises in her senses, until it reaches her fingers. She frowns a little upon remembering what happened prior to her arrest, but lets it happen, because this time, it feels right. Sheltered and guarded. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She watches with curiosity as a flame rises from the fire and morphs into a fern. In her peripheral vision she can see a grin appear on Merlin's face. He gives a short wonderous laugh. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't look so concerned. Your magic has no control yet, but it seems that it latches onto your sentiment perfectly fine," he says. "It's a good start."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looks thoughtful for a moment, repositioning her own blanket with one hand. "Is that why the vase shattered all those months ago? When I first suspected it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think so. You were inexperienced, yes, but you were mostly scared. So … your magic just sort of … exploded."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But you can teach me to control it?" she asks so quietly that Merlin almost misses it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes. When you begin to learn, the control will come," he tells her. And then a thought occurs and he inhales lightly and taps the leather cover of the spell book. "I think it'll also be easier to learn when we're not in Camelot. We won't need to fear."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No," she agrees, frowning into the flames. They crackle in the palpable silence. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're not scared, are you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The question seemingly comes from nowhere and becomes a white noise in her ears for a moment. She distractedly turns her head to him. "Why would you ask that?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shrugs again. "Because we don't know what's going to happen next."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana almost scoffs but bites it down and swallows. Her arm begins to throb and her eyelids feel heavy. "Are <i>you</i> scared?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nearly laughs. "I've been scared my whole life. I grew up not knowing who I was. I went to Camelot and had to hide who I was. But now I'm here, where I'm free."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But it's not that easy," she whispers, tangled emotion caught up in her throat. Gods, she should probably rest. "Is it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She watches a stormy sea of emotions flicker across his countenance, her own exhausted eyes finding it arduous to focus on each one. But what she does register is sadness. A despair. A burnt-out hope. She exhales and closes her eyes. "Sorry, Merlin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Except, you're right," he says, then, stoic gaze on her. "Leaving Arthur, and Gwen ... and Gaius — no, it's far from easy." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know that," she offers. "And I'm sorry."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's no matter," he says. "We're here. Right now. And that's the easy part, in a way."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>___________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the snow relents for the night, the air is still and cold. The trees dance and sway in a gracious winter breeze that descends on the many mountain ranges, forests, fields and lakes in the kingdom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana and Merlin — the fugitives and prisoners that once were, now free — sleep soundly beneath their respective blankets. Only, a few times their eyelids flutter open to check for impending Camelot soldiers. But all their tired eyes see is a navy blue sky with bare spindly branches overlapping it. The stars, some silver and some white, are almost like fireflies. Only, they ignire brighter than anything else. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We won't be caught. I can feel it," Morgana's says, tone a hush in the still night. A loud snap of twigs had awoken them both. They'd shot up, reaching for their swords, expecting to be confronted with Camelot soldiers, only to see a lone fox staring back at them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's what you said about Gaius that evening. If I'm honest, I didn't believe it. But it turned out to be true; Uther did free him."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Perhaps to lighten his guilty conscience but, yes, he did," she whispers, eyelids flickering shut as she faces him. "It's just a feeling I get."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"An obliging feeling, it seems."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Only when it's a hopeful feeling." She swallows and her gaze drifts from him ever so slightly. "But the other feelings, they come crashing down and hit hard. An impending sense of doom, like a knife twisting in my gut."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Of course. It sounds awful."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slowly, she inhales. "I wonder if I'll still get a nightmare every time Arthur is in danger, even if I'm not there."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin suddenly rubs at his temple. Morgana frowns and tilts her head at him. "What is it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Arthur," he mumbles, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "How am I supposed to protect him when I'm all the way out here?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana sits up too, recalling when Merlin told her of his destiny. She feels the heavy weight that comes with the ever-present rawness of it all. "I'm sure Gaius will have it under control."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No," Merlin closes his eyes. "It won't be enough. You had the nightmares — you know, better than anyone else, how many people have wanted Arthur dead."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana sighs. "I'd say Arthur's capable enough to look after himself, but his observational skills are clearly substandard."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Precisely," Merlin whispers. His conflicted gaze is stuck on the dying embers of the fire. With a swift hand movement and mutter, he relights it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We just have to hope that when we return, all will be well," she whispers, flickering focus studying him as she places a hand to his arm. "Merlin?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slowly, he looks to her, tired eyes immediately finding a strange solace in her own. Yet, he frowns. "Hope is strange."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She waits, for she feels that he has more to say. But his face stays sad, as it has been since they woke, and his lips remain pursed. "But sometimes hope is all we have. Sometimes, it serves us right," she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighs and finds a twig to twirl in his fingers, trying not to disturb the placment of her hand on his arm. He frowns at the slight smears of blood still on them from earlier. Absently  —  oh, completely absently — Merlin lifts his other arm. His cold fingers trace over the crimson smears on hers. "And the other times?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon feeling the touch, her mind briefly casts back to the night she came to him in fear of Aredian. How he had touched her elbow. How foreign it felt and she'd regrettably felt the need to flinch away. Not to defend herself, mind — but to make sense of it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shakes her head and tries to remember his previous words, pushing aside the cloudiness in her head. "The other times, when hope is all that's left, it's good *because* it's all we have. To rely on something so gracious is dangerous, perhaps. Fragile."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And how is fragility good?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It needs protecting. It need not break, because if it did, there really would be nothing left."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin nods and a tired smile twitches his lips. "As long as we nurture hope, there is always something to believe in."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes," she whispers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns to face her, then. The flames from the fire before them climb and feed from one another. Loud yet sombre and peaceful crackles fill the silence. Her eyes become wary as they are both stuck again. In another instant as hollow as the night sky above, yet burning perhaps brighter than the moon glow itself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We should probably get some rest," Morgana whispers, voice a hush. She recalls seeing Arthur and Gwen look like this before. She used to grin at it, for they were just clueless fools adhered in adoration. But the very prospect scares her, now. It is no longer quite so amusing as it once was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin shakes his head and shuffles awkwardly. He mumbles in agreement as they both settle themselves back beneath their respective blankets. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They both find their eyelids unwilling to close, and instead their eyes are drawn to the sky dotted with glorious white specks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But finally, a few hours before dusk turns to dawn, their eyelids relent and close. They shiver in the cold, nevertheless their sleep is more peaceful than it has been in days. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>__________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>XXXII</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Back in Camelot, Gaius smiles sadly as he stands in the doorway of Merlin's room. To think of it as his <i>old</i> room is a thought unpleasant to the Physician; he has never been one for denial but he knows that, somehow, acceptance will come in time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bed that was barely slept in remains a tangle of thin sheets. Books and clothes are strewn all over the floor, and Gaius really does wonder how such a dedicated servant could call such an untidy place home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old Physician feels his eyelids weigh heavy — noticeably heavier than he ever recalls. He chuckles sadly and wanders over to the small window that is already opened slightly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unsteadily, Gaius stands on a chest and pushes himself up to look out of the window. His wrinkled hands sit on the cold stone, and within seconds they are gently tickled with falling snowflakes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaius's curious brow flickers as he looks out to the wonderful kingdom. Physically wonderful, that is — after recent events, Gaius is doubtful of Camelot's internal grace whilst Aredian — who is due to depart tomorrow — and Uther reside within it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Physician had always admired the King, for he knew his mind and had risen through wars and pain and loss. But Gaius can no longer respect this hypocrite who granted him a safe passage in the castle, but sentenced other sorcerers to death. Of course, emotion is not a factor in his decisions. Uther Pendragon does not have the ability to decide fate for each and every sorcerer — to delve into meaning and reap judgement from there. He is of stubborn mind who sees what's on the outside, and that is always it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaius sighs as he watches the snow continue to fall. The gorious array of houses — from the Citadel to the Lower Town — stretch far into the distance as warm speckles of light. And his old ears may not be able to hear the festive singing, but he can feel the melancholy from where he is. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually feeling the cold of midnight, Gaius walks back into his own chambers, tired and still blistered feet creaking on the old floorboards. He sits at his desk, carefully taking an ink quill that he acquired from the market today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Many things still need cleaning up. Although, Gwen has helped for a large majority of it — Arthur, too. Gaius must admit that the latter was a shock to him, even if he did help Merlin escape. The old man marvelled at the quiet prince as he scrubbed the floors from spilt ink, smiled softly at the kindly maid who swept the floor from ripped pages, herbs, and powders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several times, as Gaius sifted through page upon page of ripped book, Arthur thought aloud. Distant mumbles of <i>"All those times I almost died and I was … miraculously saved,"</i> he would say as the movements with the scrubbing brush momentarily slowed, <i>" … was Merlin to thank for every single one?"</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The question lingered in the room's palpable atmosphere. It remained unanswered but not in the face of disregard. Rather, it was in the face of knowing. Still, Gaius would nod at the prince, smiling proudly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaius sighs tiredly, trials of the past few days catching up to him. But he wills himself to write this letter, for the loss he feels at Merlin and Morgana's absence burns a gaping hole in his gut and requires a cure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As candles flicker beside him and the gentle snowstorm breezes outside, the quill's steady tip meets the paper.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>My dear Hunith,<br/>
I do hope that you are well this winter. It has been three years since you wrote to me concerning Merlin's advent to Camelot. I can only apologise for the lack of a reply; life here in Camelot can be most tumultuous at times. Although, I do know that you saw Merlin no more than two years ago, when he and his staunch companions defended your village. Then, you probably saw what your boy has grown into</i>.</p>
  <p><i>Nevertheless, I have mind to explain how things are now. With Merlin's gifts come a great responsibility to protect himself whilst protecting all of us, here in the castle. That task, he is devoted to. Merlin puts everyone else before himself. Sometimes that has brought more harm than good, but it mostly makes a great difference in the lives of everyone around him</i>. </p>
  <p>
    <i>Five days ago, a man called Aredian arrived under order of the King. Such a man is known as 'The Witchfinder', and I fear that I do not need to explain who he is, or what he does, his name giving all away.</i>
  </p>
  <p><i>He suspected of Merlin's gifts and questioned him twice. The former time, Merlin got away. The latter time, though, Merlin was arrested. He loyally gave himself up for me, and my heart still bursts with pride yet a deep sadness that I could not do more for him.</i> </p>
  <p><i>Merlin did not find himself alone in the cells, however. A day before Merlin's arrest, the Lady Morgana — hopefully you remember her — was also arrested. She also possesses magic, and, as I now understand, often confided her fears in Merlin. He proved to be of valuable and steadfast support to her, and for that, we are all grateful to a fault</i>. </p>
  <p><i>I do not how long the lady Morgana knew of Merlin's magic. I had, in the first instance, strictly advised Merlin not to tell her. But, of course, at any point, it doesn't seem like he listened. Merlin did not much like to listen if his heart said something else — and that, I now believe, he is most commendable for.</i> </p>
  <p><i>Between them, with the vital help of prince Arthur and Gwen, they concocted an escape plan. I was told about it by Gwen at dawn, before they were to be brought to the pyre. It didn't quite go to plan, but they made it eventually.</i> </p>
  <p><i>They were last seen by Gwen running to the Brechfa forest, where horses and supplies were provided. Arthur was immediately sent out with an army to search for them. He caught sight of them for a moment and then subtly directed the army in the opposite direction on a false sighting to give Morgana and Merlin more time</i>. </p>
  <p><i>Gwen informs me that they may travel to you at Ealdor for a while, or Angla. After that, it's up to them where they choose to go. Here at Camelot, Gwen and I will do our best to continue Merlin's destiny. We will encourage Arthur to stick to the ideals he has learnt in the last few days, for as long as is needed. After that, I am hopeful that Morgana and Merlin will return to the safe reign of Arthur Pendragon. Please do tell Merlin of that if you see him</i>. </p>
  <p><i>On a final note, my beloved sister, I cannot fault you for sending Merlin here in the first place. Even though he has encountered his fair share of dangers, he has helped more people than any of us can imagine. He has shaken hands with a legendary destiny, and has secured great friendships built on great values</i>.</p>
  <p><i>Running, they are as safe as they can be, I know. If you do not see them for some time, I pray that you will not fret; Morgana and Merlin, between them, will soon aquire the power to conquer armies and bring them to their knees, should such a need ever arise. They, of course, mutually factor rectitude in their decisions</i>.</p>
  <p><i>Lastly, if I'm not too self-interested to note, I would like to express my gratitude to you. Three years ago, I met a great man, where righteousness rests in its most admirable form. Whatever it may be, I know that he will achieve even greater things in the future.</i> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <i>Farewell for now, Hunith<br/>
Many good wishes,<br/>
Gaius</i>
  </p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i dont know where to begin. this story started as a one-shot i wrote last december at 5 in the morning,  hence why it's so long. i really really want to thank everyone who left kudos, read, bookmarked and commented on the first chapter - without you i wouldnt have had the inspiration &amp; momentum to plan more chapters and bring the story into a whole different direction. and of course, thank you to everyone who has read, commented and so forth from then on. i love the merlin fandom on here, you guys are amazing! </p>
<p>until december, then! (i have a mergana fic planned and i'm trying to make it festive, honest!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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